Ouch…

…my head hurts.

I don’t know how he got in the house, but so help me God, if I find the squirrel that shit in my mouth last night I’ll wring his little neck.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one.

You know what I just fucking love? Waking up on the couch at six o’clock in the morning with crusty eyes and dried up slobber on my cheek, in the same clothes I was wearing all day yesterday.

Did I mention my head hurts?

So, technically I only had six beers. Technically.

While I was barbequing pork tenderloins yesterday (boy, oh boy, were they good), someone who I’m determined to stay married to even if it kills me, decided it would be a good idea to get me a four-pack of Founders Double Trouble.

There’s a reason they only sell them in four-packs.

How did that squirrel get in the house?

Then someone else, through no fault of his own, made the slightly impaired decision to follow up that four-pack with a bomber of Rouge Dead Guy.

Did someone leave the door open again?

I don’t really even remember opening the bomber of Stone Double Bastard, but I found the empty bottle in the kitchen.

Ouch.

So now it’s 9:30 in the morning, my head hurts, I smell like refried ass, it‘s taken me an hour and a half to write these 256 words and I have way too much shit to do today.

I’m going to go take a shower. Don’t bother me.