WAY Behind...

I finally have a couple of days off, so I'm gonna try and catch up on e-mail and maybe even write a column--if I can keep my hands off that bottle of Mohawk chillin' in the freezer, that is. I don't know what I have to mix it with, but that doesn't mean shit to me. As long as it's sweet and has carbonation, it works as a mixer for me. Dr. Pepper, Mountain Dew, Faygo Fruit Punch... you name it. Lushes don't have discriminating tastes.

I have to make a conscious effort to keep my hands off the phone, though. I got drunk last week and started making random phone calls; and that's news for me, because I never call anybody. I don't even know why I have a fucking phone, to be brutally honest with you. But I started making calls to friends of mine while intoxicated (sorry, Andrea), babbling on about all kinds of shit. Just be thankful I didn't call any of you guys. I used to do that, you know--I used to call readers of mine if they sent along their phone numbers in e-mail. It doesn't happen a lot, mind you, but it does happen. One reader of mine who lives about ten miles from me invited me to his Super Bowl party. I didn't go, but it was nice of him to ask. And sometimes, female readers send me their numbers... God only knows why. Maybe I appeal to their maternal instincts or something. But the last time I called a female reader of mine (which was last summer), it was a wild scene. She said she was 27 in her e-mail, but she sounded a good ten years younger than that. There was a lot of giggling and passing the phone around to another chick that was there. I started getting paranoid that they were laughing at me, so I hung up. Haven't called a reader since.

Speaking of phones, I could tell that my day was going to suck when the first thing that happened this morning was the phone ringing and waking me up--and when I answered it, the base of the phone dropped directly on my big toe. Hurt like a mofo. Now, I've been stumbling around with a limp all damn day...

Bah. See you assholes later.