My mouth tastes like I’ve been chewing on a corpse’s foot, my head is an atomic bowling alley and my stomach is a seasick fugue, but I’m back from my little bender. And I managed to stay out of jail and to retain my friends. So I must be getting better at drinking.
There has, however, been one strange side effect. Perhaps it was the absinthe or perhaps it was the Bach or perhaps it was a combination of the two, but, when I awoke on Thursday and before I got down my breakfast rum and coke, I realized that I had become absolutely fascinated by the idea of women with tails.
I just really want to playfully tug on a woman’s tail. Although it’s bad enough that women don’t actually have tails, I simply cannot describe the horrible melancholy I felt upon hearing that President Bush wants to make sure that they never do. What sort of future is this man trying to build? It certainly seems to be one where my humble dreams may never come true.
Oh well, Ryan, my sweet grumpy owl. Perhaps you’re just too gentle and kind for this world. And now you must go to sleep. Things will feel better in the morning. I promise.
