Two Yuenglings, some underwear, and a glass of water

That's what we ordered when we got to CB's Gallery at sort of the intermission of Nicfit's day-long birthday "brunch." I thought I was being so wise and virtuous having water (you can see the underwear here), and might have even believed that I'd sobered up a fair bit by the time I headed uptown.
But then I scribbled this blog post in my Palm while in the cab:

did i ever tell you all about
how the cokehead alcoholic read all the blog archives and then asked me never to talk to him again? I never foond ootif it was that i stolehis Viagra, or that I felt like was slumming, or that i called him a cokehead alcoholic. But that's what he is; he must have known, right? maybe he would have preferred that i'd called him the bedwetter?

...and then passed out soon after arriving at Nomda's hotel room. When I awoke, she helpfully played the voicemail I'd left her, to banish any remaining misconceptions of sobriety.

Despite lots of sleep yesterday, I'm still recovering. So no, I did not get up at six this morning to run another 3.34 miles like I did on Sunday.

(While we're on the subject, latest running stats are:
Last Tuesday -- 2.75 miles in 39 minutes, 14.2 minutes/mile
Sunday -- 3.34 miles in 45 minutes, 13.5 minutes/mile
Today -- sweet, sweet sleep)