Thursday night - Bombed by 9PM. Passed out in my bed, fully clothed with my dinner - a peanut butter cracker - in my hand. Nice.

Friday - slept in. Headed to the shore. Got Bombed. To the point where, during the taxi ride home with friends, I analyzed my state and ascertained that I would not be able to ride my bike home. This, people, is virtually unheard off. I've been BLIND DRUNK and ridden my bike home. Have taxi drop me off at my house. Open car door, fall out of car, onto street. WHOA. Hear a collective "Ohhhhh" come from the car. Probably from the taxi driver, who had the unfortunate job of being sober. Pull it together, shut car door, stumble up two flights of stairs. Wake up with BBQ potato chips in my bed. Friends tell me they woke up with 1)Donut all over one, 2) Butterscotch Krimpets on another. Evidence shows there was a late-night trip to Wawa.

Saturday - Go to beach. Drive up to Phillie for engagement party. Stay 3 hours, leave, drive back down to the beach. Problem: already wasted by the time we are ready to go out. Reign myself in. Pass on bar visit. In bed by 1:30am. Good thing too, since everyone is hurtin' on Sunday.

Sunday - Father's Day. Good stuff.

Monday - Bitter.

Tuesday - Looking forward to Wednesday.

Is anyone hating this entry as much as I am?

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