You should have heard it.

Last night, in a fit of post- crappy football psychosis, I decided to audio blog a little, despite (or possibly because of) the fact that my voice was just about gone from screaming for all kinds of reasons at Beef's. I started rambling into the phone at about 1:30 this morning, mostly like I was leaving a really long and obnoxious drunken message on someone's voice mail. Then, I suppose I passed out and hung up (the order of which, I am not really certain).

Point is, I never saved the entry for posting, and it obviously didn't show up here, and we may never know what fantastical pearls of wisdom I planned to impart on poor Lex (yeah, you were thisclose to having a blog entry -- audio, no less!-- directed solely at you. I can remember shit else, but I do remember that I was trying to tell you something. Now, don't go and get a big head about it).

The funny thing? I wasn't drunk. At all. Haven't had a drop in about a month. I was just fucking exhausted. Apparently, crappy football nights will do that to you. And make you sound like Selma Diamond (RIP) from Night Court. Sassy!

I also turned down the prospect of $2.50 mimosas this morning. Who the hell does that at a beautiful Sunday morning breakfast with your favorite gays?

What is happening to me?