Oog. So this is what a hangover feels like?
Yesterday was so blah for most of the day. I mean, I really didn�t have anything to do, which is sometimes the absolute best kind of weekend a person can have. I low-keyed it all day Sunday, for the most part, and really enjoyed it. I took a long, leisurely shower, and then I decided to be a responsible roommate and take care of the dishes. Then I cleaned the kitchen and my bathroom, mopped the floors, called my mother, saved a family of four from a burning high-rise, donated anonymously to charity, and gave my kidney to the organ donor program. Well, okay, I only did some of those things, but I felt like a hero, you know?
And then it was time for Dolly�s party. As you all know, Dolly and I have a spotty history, in that sometimes I want her to DIE, but the party was actually lots of fun. It was on one of the boats here at Titanic Cruises, and�I got a little hammered. Which was fine, because who can walk straight on a boat anyway? However, I�m starting to feel like a great big lush, because Sunday made the fourth consecutive night in a row that I�ve gotten drunk. Last night was a bit inevitable, though, as birthdays always call for some indulgence.
Plus which, Miranda�s a hard drinker, and she wouldn�t let me quit. She bought me a Jack and Coke and two shots on top of the St. Patrick-friendly Midori Sour I bought for myself. But it was fun because we totally bonded. Miranda�s way cool, yo. Did you know that she used to hang out with Nicole Kidman and Guy Pearce back when they were struggling actors living in Australia? Dude, I�d give my left [censored] to hang out with Nicole Kidman and Guy Pearce. They�re hot! Mmmm�Aussies.
Wow. Where was I? Oh yeah! The point. Well, okay, so I was nowhere near the point, but deal with that as a segue or else we�ll all be here for another five days while I make my way to the -- hey, there�s a bird!
Kidding. I was going to tell you guys all about my totally cool-ass little brother, KillerWorkout, today! In a hyphenated word, my brother is cool-ass. He�s five years younger than me, so we�ve got the perfect age difference going on. He was always old enough that we could communicate, but never so old that he wouldn�t put up with my shit when I tried to boss him around. When we were little, we used to watch reruns on TV all the time together, and we even formed a game based on them. We were the only kids in the neighborhood who had their own sitcom, you guys. It was a really cool show, too, because we watched programs like The Dick Van Dyke Show, Get Smart!, and Batman. So basically, we were television writers by day, spies by night, and masked superheroes on the weekends. It was so effing cool.
And we referred to our games as �episodes�. Like, we�d play for a few hours and then we�d be like, �It�s lunch time. This episode is �to be continued�, okay?� Then my mother got this bug up her ass about it and wouldn�t let us play that game anymore. I don�t know why, she just forbade it. So my brother and I hatched this diabolical scheme -- we immediately devised three different �replacement� games:
? Criminals -- The thinking behind this was sheer genius, if I do say so myself. My mother didn�t like us playing superheroes? Fine. We would be evil masterminds instead. We would rob banks, knock over old ladies, steal candy from babies, rename French fries, and all the rest of it. Our hope was that our mother would decide it was better we pretend to fight crime rather than perpetrate it. As it turned out, she didn�t give a crap and we had to move on to Plan B.
? Cavemen -- When showing a propensity for crime didn�t scare my mother into lifting the ban on our favorite game, we tried misogyny. We figured, as a feminist, there was no way she could abide a game in which we pretended to be honest-to-gosh cavemen, complete with the head-clubbing and hair-dragging of cavewomen. Mostly this game was just lame, because cavemen aren�t exactly notorious for their language skills. Basically we�d run around in circles, grunting, and pretending to club women over the head. In the end, my mother just insisted we play outdoors, and it was on to Plan C.
? Comedians -- Our last resort, this one proved to be successful beyond our best expectations. After less than two weeks of Comedians, my mother practically dropped to her knees and begged us to go back to being superheroes. The premise of Comedians was this: in the loudest possible voice we could muster, we would tell the absolute worst jokes we could possibly come up with, and then laugh and laugh and laugh at them. Sample joke:
Me: Heeeeey Comedian!KillerWorkout: What, Comedian?
Me: Why did the chicken cross the road?
KW: I don�t know, Comedian! Why did the chicken cross the road?
Me: I forget!
Together: HA HA HA! HA! HA! HA! HA HA HA HA HA!
Of course, then we got bored of our game altogether, and gave it up shortly after that.Anyway, now he�s all old.
Toldja I was the perfect girlfriend.
