More Water, Please

Seriously, people, why hasn't anyone physically restrained me from going out to karaoke on a Tuesday yet? Or better yet, let me go, but come drag me out before 11. This is just insane. I did get to sing the two opening room songs, though. And "Suddenly Seymour," which was a coup.

Hmm, I don't like the way that word looks. I know it has a "p," but it reads strangely.

Anyway, I was thinking I need to hire someone to gather me out of the bar at a decent hour, because, surprisingly enough, alcohol impairs my judgement, an impairment that lasts well into the next morning when I rationalize to myself my constant smacking of the snooze button. The funny (or tragic) part of that is that my alarm clock is two rooms away, in my bathroom, so I actually get up and walk to my alarm clock to hit the snooze button every seven minutes for two hours. People! This is madness! "I don't have any appointments until one and if they really cared they'd say something about my punctuality" is not a good reason to loll about in bed. My imaginary maid, Shannen Doherty, isn't much help, either.