So, I haven't been drinking as much lately. Two reasons. Sometimes its nice to wake up and not feel like a sullied bar rag. And NYC drinkin can put a hurtin on your wallet. However being an a-list rummy I certainly don't pay nearly as much as amatuers. But a professional that goes out four or five times a week still ends up shelling out more green than the occasional weekend warriors.

On the way home I picked up a six pack of Miller High Life. Because as we all know it is the champaign of beers. Split it with my friend as a preparatory tool for the binge ahead that evening.

Fully greased and primed I head to the boozer.

Since I haven't seen Val in a while I decided to go to Nice Guy Eddie's and spread the joy her way. Also, the last time we saw each other we kind of had a falling out. Like I said I hadn't been visiting my bartender homies as much, so she took it as an effrontery. So I walk in and she sneers and says "You need to get over yourself." And with a look in my eyes of - kiss my heiny, I spun around, and let the door smack me on the ass as I departed. I do not respond well to out of nowhere tude. Decided last night to make nice nice.

She wasn't working. Dern. Head towards Doc Hollidays.

Ah Joanna. She is always a fresh face that I like seeing and having smile at me while shooting drinks my way. Yay. The usual crowd of low lifes were there. Perfection. Let the steady stream of liquor flow on in.

My friend Eamon was trying to convince me all night to shoot him in the skull, with a gun he would supply. No joke. The argument that actually worked to convince him that I was not the candidate. "I would but then who's gonna off me? I won't jail." Then as we were stoning it up at his crib, he challenged me to do fifty push ups and a mess of sit ups. Feat accomplished with less panache than hippos fucking. My body complained as I reached up for the shampoo this morning. And I have been a space cake all day.