I have been on a bit of a bender as the drinking season started early this year and never really stopped. This culminated last weekend with the annual summer guys weekend at the lake and driving home yesterday my internal workings were aching as if they were asked to sing out their names in some kind of pain attendance list. A full day later I still find myself belching fire and performing the seated version of toilet dry heaves slash monochromatic Jackson Pollock painting. This is going to require some kind of drastic detoxification. Not sure what quite yet but I’m about to google “self imposed medically-induced coma” as an option.
As I drove home I got flicked in the nuts with traffic almost immediately as I entered the highway. Forty Five minutes and roughly 15 miles later I came upon a pillar of jet black smoke that I thought would be a horrible accident. Instead I found out that we were all crawling by to get a load of the go kart track burning out of control. Two of the cars were on fire and from what I could tell some of the tires that make up both the course layout and safety dividers.
I couldn’t figure out why all of the people standing and watching seemed to be armed with sticks until I noticed the abandoned putt-putt mountain right next door. Holy crap in a canister I just wanted to get home and all lanes were blocked by rubberneckers. It took an extra hour and I could have used every second of that to recover. Even my new beard of power and ridiculousness hurts. Wait! That sounded like the end… But the whole reason I’m writing this is that all day while responding to emails and typing work assignments I have been randomly squirming and crying out.
It would seem that I have injured my beer opening finger as well.
a new low