Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Daphne found someone who can write almost as well as she can. It’s that lawyer-lover Mahons fellow, with whom I entered into that little dust-up; I was treating him like a jerk, because frankly, he was behaving like one. Well, perhaps I should give him another eval…or not…regardless, this is superb.
Morning has broken. So has my head. As I lay in bed dawn’s soft sunlight burns me like the noon day sun on Dracula at the beach. My mouth feels like an army of pygmies with muddy feet has marched across my mouth for a month.
The tidial headache ebbs and flows between splitting migraine and traumatic brain injury. Events of the night before flash on and off in my battered memory – the vividly inappropriate joke, the tragic karaoke choice and the unnecessary nineteenth drink. Whose idea was shots for the house? Did someone really bring a camera? Why am I wearing one shoe in bed?
Sitting up in bed seems a task fraught with danger. Standing up an impossible fantasy. Yet I manage both. Briefly. A walk fall and crawl to the bathroom (the hop skip and jump of the drinker’s olympics) results in the application of cool tile to the face. I lay on the floor of the bathroom, my feet under the sink and my head next to the bathroom scale and weigh my options. A new low. Before some dectectives comes to chalk around my body, I struggle upright by grabbing the sink and pulling myself up with both shaking hands. A horrible glance at the poor soul in the mirror. Not a moment of great self-respect.
I sidestep to the toilet like a deranged crab and begin pissing away the poison into the bowl. Since I need my hands to hold onto the walls, accuracy at times must be sacrificed for basic relief. When the Mrs. discovers the effects of uncertain targeting later in the day, hilarity will not ensue. With so much alcohol in my system when I finish my dick burps. Not a pleasant experience, I assure you.
Mother of God. Whose idea was cigars? The effects of smoking join forces with the effects of drinking as my liver and lungs compete to see which system can fail first. I don’t need the hair of the dog, I need the hair of the Yak. This day will clearly be spent in agony and penance.
Now I recall why I hate holiday office parties.
Before we thought my son was a girl, we thought he was twins. When we thought he was twins, there was an office party. During and following the office party, this was my experience…partly because, I like to think, we thought he was twins. The ensuing unpleasantness left such a deep mark it has not been repeated since. He’s twelve now.
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Whose idea was cigars? The effects of smoking join forces with the effects of drinking as my liver and lungs compete to see which system can fail first.
Tyro. Anyone stupid enough to inhale cigar smoke deserves everything he gets.
— The Picker of Nits
- bpenni | 12/19/2009 @ 10:32Never been there. But then, I was never much of a drinker, even when I could drink.
- Gordon | 12/19/2009 @ 14:27Sounds like he had a date with the shit monkey…
- KC | 12/21/2009 @ 15:35