It's 3:29am. Eight shots of Jack Daniels and a gallon of Diet Pepsi to put me down last night. A little drink-and-dialing (Whatup Angela... Jnau... Kay...), a little drink-and-buy junk fooding, and now I'm putting together the pieces of the evening. Did have the busiest work week ever since self employed. Tomorrow's going to be busy, including working at Skyland where I'll be cutting anyone off who gets as drunk as I did last night. The cool thing is that I've got that fridge full of bottled water next to the bed, so I've been able to pound the fluids and not have to get out of bed to do so.
Gooch:out.
Oh, my yahoo instant messenger ID is: goochthecolumn, since people have asked me about IM.
Back to bed. I have a strange FedEx package that's been attempted to be delivered twice to my house. I'm not sure what it is. Almost nervous. Anthrax a couple of years too late? A human head, like in Seven? I've already ordered my Viagra for the year. What could it be?
I'll keep you posted, I'm sure the suspense is torturing you as much as it is me.
Gooch:out again.
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