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Tough actin'

From the Jim Beam files:

Tonight I’m one of those hiccup drunks. It reminds me of those old MGM cartoons where there were a bunch of Technicolor bulldogs and cats all hugging and singing “We were traveling along….ON Bourbon Street.”

I don’t even know when a day is supposed to end and the day begin. Time is one of those commodities which I have lost, ever since the paper has been back in business. How can I live when I can’t get my fix of Bill Maher or Real Sex on Friday?

Doomed.

Bound to repeat mistakes, my mission for tonight is simple. Get it over with. Reach that alcoholic plateau, ride the sea crest until the liquor is gone and then dive into couch mode. This is where things were at.

There’s a new kid in town. His name was Captain Gonzo. He was a man without a vessel. But he made up for it in liquor.

I guess when you start getting your fill straight from the bottle, things are bound to turn grim.

Grim indeed. I got home at 3 AM. I wasn’t pissed or anything, but I did take into account the simple pleasures of watching a movie, smoking a cigarette or reading a book. I took into account taking off your shoes and socks after a long day. I took into account John Madden’s solution “tough actin’ Tinactin” even though I didn’t have a fungal problem.

Let the Devil within me ride. Take the ticket.

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Night turns to day and again I'm waking up in strange places and stranger beds. At least the furnishings were nice. But not as nice as this.



Image courtesy of http://www.myspace.com/jennajameson