Wait, what?

This morning Lisa commented that I looked a little lost. I would have said bewildered. I went on a non-date last night. My boss commented yesterday that every non-date is a date as soon as you screw up. Apparently I didn’t screw up, because it ended up being a date. She came to my house and hung out on the deck with me until the wee hours. She had worn her work clothes, so I loaned her a t-shirt, then a hoodie, then a blanket. Stars appeared and disappeared behind the leaves of the maple tree while clouds piled up overhead and drifted apart. It was like that.

I don’t know what to make of it all, and I’m fresh out of sass tonight — even after a dual stage nap.

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It could be worse

masthead

I could be this guy.

WOW. Why the fuck am I awake now?

Props to dooce.

Did I tell you about dooce? I should have, because she’s way funnier than I am.

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Weird as hell

Do I really come off as a lush? It’s all a total act. After this summer I will probably go back to the grim spectre of sobriety. In the mean time, any time that a cute woman wants to come to my house and encourage me to drink myself silly on the deck I am all over that like a cheap suit. Shit. That does sound like a thing that Drinky McDrunk Drunk would say.

None of you have any idea what the fuck is really going on.

Paul, you should come drink here too.

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