2002-12-28

�Marriage meant a great deal to our neighbors. . . . Our mother couldn�t make it to the grocery store without having to examine wallet-sized photos of someone�s dribbling, popeyed grandbaby.

��Now that�s different,� she�d say. �A living baby. All my grandchildren have been ground up for fertilizer or whatever it is they do with the aborted fetuses. It puts them under my feet but keeps them out of my hair, which is just the way I like it. Here�s your picture back. You tell that daughter of yours to keep up the good work.��

David Sedaris, Naked

Marry me, David.

I have a hangover today of such epic proportions that I think someone ought to immortalize it in a sonnet or something. I haven�t felt this completely awful since the days of dollar highballs at the Night Gallery back in high school. Or that night I made the inspired decision to mix white wine, champagne and tequila. Oooh, best not to think about THAT night. It still makes my liver twitch.

This is the kind of hangover that necessitates firm and decisive action, in the form of lying on the couch, watching The Breakfast Club and moaning. The moaning is key. �Fucking elephant was destroyed.� �Ha ha�uuunnnhh. Kill me.�

Anyway, I�d write something coherent, but I think I broke my brain. And sitting up is making my eyeballs hurt. As you were.