"Am I giving these to minors, what are you? Crazy or something?"

Your mind might be wired differently (read: wrong), but there are few things worse than going to work hungover. Conversely, going to work whilst faking a hangover can, under specific circumstances, be one of the best. Sometime between 7pm and a $60 bar tab last night I realized that time had not stopped, and I did, in fact, have to be at work in (as I eloquently put it) "soon hourses". Luckily my tiny and oft-neglected self-preservation instinct kicked in and I drank more water than some villages see in weeks*.

I woke up at 6:50am, popped six ibuprofen, two raw eggs doused in hot sauce  and a colada. This combination will kill any hangover, appetite or child under the age of thirteen. My initial plan of running into the bathroom and Clark-Kenting in the bathroom was foiled by Fredo's being on the toilet when I arrived. As such, I had to explain to Tony and Paulie that I had been out last night celebrating my completion of the project Fredo had me on. They asked details, I answered honestly. I had to repeat the numbers to the point that I was wondering how these people dress themselves. Because these two have more than one frat boy bone in their bodies they each gave me a pat on the back and called me a "soldier bro" for coming into work after that experience. Now, their believing I was a hungover wreck made my day all sorts of great.

For one, being hungover will give you slight scent of alcohol all day. As does drinking all day. Score.

Second, I got treated like a beast for doing the simplest of tasks. "Hey, can you make me two copies of this? Yeah?! What a stallion bro!". "Uh, yeahhh, no problem!".

It also let me spend a lot more time at "the bank". Today, the bank was the talking end of a nice Honduran cigar.

So, in short.... Shit, I guess I didn't really learn anything. Anyway, some random notes shall we?

- Today I had to respond to an e-mail with the subject line "Re: Iguanas".

- What asylum let these fuckers out?

- Last night, a conversation went from fetal surgery to Roth IRAs to the merits of mango cheesecake all over one Manhattan. Some people remind me it's possible to be cool after 40, and in doing so give me a semblance of hope.

- Cuban guys love naming their businesses "All-American <blank>". I suppose I don't understand the correlation between citizenship and the ability to remove stains from tuxedos but I've never been the best vintage on the rack.

- hehe. rack.

- I imagine the worst possible opening line on a resume for a bartender would be "Not so bad when sober."

- One last quick note to anyone who may ever have a say in the paper industry: PUTTING DOTS ON A SHEET OF PAPER DOES NOT MAKE IT PERFORATED ANYMORE THAN PUTTING CLOTHES ON YOUR KITTEN MAKE IT A GOOD PICK FOR BEST FRIEND. Pass that along will ya?

Thanks for reading. Until next time: stay hungry, stay happy.


*That was in pretty bad taste, but it was that or a Katrina joke. I am a bad man.