Sunday Morning, Coming Down
When I woke this morning, my hair hurt, my tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth and gremlins were playing a game of ping-pong in my stomach.
Yes, I have a hangover -- my way of greeting the New Year. Bring it on, but first get me an aspirin, thank you very much.
Last night is a blur in my memory. I vaguely recall a wild taxi ride with my friend and two bimbos to a hotel somewhere on this island and then we ... but I digress (and I'm not the type of man to kiss and tell.)
I have no idea how or when I got home. All I know is I plan to kill the crazy woman on the floor above who awakened me so early with an ear-piercing shriek. I'll bring a wire garrote or use the curtain rope from her apartment. Either way, I'm putting her out of her misery and chortling while I do it.
Now I must try to concentrate on the NFL games on TV. Football! The great American sport of grace, speed and bone-crushing violence. It will give me a great deal of satisfaction to see I'm not the only one in pain on this first day of 2006.