A million particles of cosmic riffraff dance in the first rays of morning sunshine creeping their way through my bedroom blinds. Even half asleep, seeing it makes me afraid to breathe in. These thoughts and my deeply furrowed brow might brand me a philosopher in your eyes. But no. It’s just a hangover. And it’s a bad one.
I curl up in the fetal position and press my thumb and middle finger to my throbbing temples. I move my thick tongue around like a cow chewing cud. It’s gotta be four times its normal size and tastes like I ate an entire sleeve of stale saltines and washed it down with 8 to 10 beers. But that would be ridiculous. I drink vodka.
Well, at least I had a good time last night.
I think. [Read more...]