I don't like being hung over at work the next day.
The obvious solution, of course, would be to quit working. And yet this is simply not feasible. What kind of society to we live in? I ask you.
In other pathetic-old-drunk news, I have lately gotten into the habit of checking the Sausage page on my website (if you don't know, you better ask somebody, kid) to remember what I did the previous week. How pitiful is that? My memory has been so assailed by drink, drugs, and age that I have to look at my website to remember what I was doing.
Tonight is White Sox baseball against the Red Sox of Boston. I will be in the right field bleachers, praying for Sox-on-Sox violence, since hoping for a win is probably a big waste of time. The game may be forgettable, but at least I have the internet to remind me I was there.