by SonDog
I'm a little brain-dead today from a late night at my buddy Reed's house. In fact, my brain feels like it's turned into Cream of Wheat (Thank you, Larry Krueger).
My wife, Lisa, has always had a keen sense of smell and is particularly disgusted by the smell of morning-after booze and smoke. For those of you who know me well, you already see how this presents a problem on somewhat of a daily basis. With this in mind, my lovely wife recommended some time ago (Note to reader: replace "recommended" with "demanded") that I sleep in the guest room during nights in which I come home too tanked to participate in the exhausting exercise that is known as "taking a shower." With Lisa's olfactory sensor neurons reaching super-human capability during pregnancy, you surely need no further explanation as to why I awoke this morning in the guest bedroom (See: Tanked, Me).
I was stirred from my comatose state at 6 am to the sound of Rocky licking my bald head. Yes, my dog was trying to do his part to make me presentable before we interacted with my wife. You see, since he was with me last night, he would probably be in trouble too. In fact, I believe I heard him whisper, "She's not going to be happy, boozehound. Clean yourself up. And thanks for ensuring that I'm not going to get a treat in my kong this morning, dick. Appreciate that." But maybe I was just hallucinating.
I'm a little brain-dead today from a late night at my buddy Reed's house. In fact, my brain feels like it's turned into Cream of Wheat (Thank you, Larry Krueger).
My wife, Lisa, has always had a keen sense of smell and is particularly disgusted by the smell of morning-after booze and smoke. For those of you who know me well, you already see how this presents a problem on somewhat of a daily basis. With this in mind, my lovely wife recommended some time ago (Note to reader: replace "recommended" with "demanded") that I sleep in the guest room during nights in which I come home too tanked to participate in the exhausting exercise that is known as "taking a shower." With Lisa's olfactory sensor neurons reaching super-human capability during pregnancy, you surely need no further explanation as to why I awoke this morning in the guest bedroom (See: Tanked, Me).
I was stirred from my comatose state at 6 am to the sound of Rocky licking my bald head. Yes, my dog was trying to do his part to make me presentable before we interacted with my wife. You see, since he was with me last night, he would probably be in trouble too. In fact, I believe I heard him whisper, "She's not going to be happy, boozehound. Clean yourself up. And thanks for ensuring that I'm not going to get a treat in my kong this morning, dick. Appreciate that." But maybe I was just hallucinating.
Even Rocky couldn't stand the smell this morning
At any rate, as I looked around the room, I saw the remnants of what was a Cheeze-It war between my mouth and my hands (there were plenty of casualties), an empty bottle of POWERade, every article of clothing that I was wearing, three jelly beans, an empty bucket, a crescent wrench, my iPod, and the keyboard to my computer. It's worth mentioning that a toothbrush, mouthwash, soap, and clean clothes were nowhere to be found. Strangely enough, my memory seemed to be misplaced as well.
As Rocky and I stumbled into the master bedroom to say good morning to Lese (both of us had our tail between our legs), we were immediately welcomed with the loving sound of what could have only been unborn son saying, "You f****** stink." I quickly realized that my whiskey-soaked charisma would be of no use in the ensuing discussion. Rocky tried to bring a smile to Lese's face by jumping on the bed to give her kisses, but he was turned away as well to the words, "You smell like booze and smoke too, little man." Rocky then stared at me with a tilted-head look of confusion as if to say, "Why? Why would you do this to me?"
While Lisa showered, I pounded enough Alka-Seltzer and POWERade to kill a small elephant. I also gargled an entire bottle of citrus-flavored Listerine (Of note, I think I swallowed some because I've basically cleansed the urinal with what smells like pine-sol on three occasions this morning.) At this point, while I still had not showered, my breath no longer smelled like a turd covered in burnt hair. By the time Lese finished her shower, my sense of balance was beginning to come back. Thus, with renewed confidence, I gave my wife a loving hug, told her how much I loved her, talked to her belly to tell my son that his father is an idiot, and threw the Frisbee across the bedroom for Rocky as an apology. By this time it was 6:20, and while it would have been appropriate to make some coffee or at least get something to eat before heading to work, I felt an overwhelming urge to go back to bed.
As Rocky and I stumbled into the master bedroom to say good morning to Lese (both of us had our tail between our legs), we were immediately welcomed with the loving sound of what could have only been unborn son saying, "You f****** stink." I quickly realized that my whiskey-soaked charisma would be of no use in the ensuing discussion. Rocky tried to bring a smile to Lese's face by jumping on the bed to give her kisses, but he was turned away as well to the words, "You smell like booze and smoke too, little man." Rocky then stared at me with a tilted-head look of confusion as if to say, "Why? Why would you do this to me?"
While Lisa showered, I pounded enough Alka-Seltzer and POWERade to kill a small elephant. I also gargled an entire bottle of citrus-flavored Listerine (Of note, I think I swallowed some because I've basically cleansed the urinal with what smells like pine-sol on three occasions this morning.) At this point, while I still had not showered, my breath no longer smelled like a turd covered in burnt hair. By the time Lese finished her shower, my sense of balance was beginning to come back. Thus, with renewed confidence, I gave my wife a loving hug, told her how much I loved her, talked to her belly to tell my son that his father is an idiot, and threw the Frisbee across the bedroom for Rocky as an apology. By this time it was 6:20, and while it would have been appropriate to make some coffee or at least get something to eat before heading to work, I felt an overwhelming urge to go back to bed.
It turns out that Listerine is also a powerful cleansing product for urinals
On a related topic, I will be cooking dinner for my wife tonight.
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3 comments:
As I approach 30, I realize that I no longer can recover as quickly as I could when I was 21. I used to be able to go out all night, wake up at 6 am, feel fantastic. Not... any... more.
What are you talking about? You never recovered quickly, even in college. You're like a bad tempered sewer worker who just finished an extra long shift. And what 6 am? We thought 11 o'clock classes were "morning" classes. I'm calling BS!
Funny how just 5 miles down the road DMo drank himself into a coma that same night which ended at 3am fully clothed on his bedroom floor next to a potted plant with cigarette butts. I blame Marjorie with whom I was speaking on the phone as she resides in L.A. I'm happy to say after 7 hours of phone talk, 9 Beers(best I can guess from cans I found), a half bottle of whiskey and a half pack of Reds, I convinced Marj to come out this summer for the 4th of July to raft, hike, fish, bike and oh yes, get shit tanked with a good buddy without a fucking phone stuck in their ear. Sondog, what's our drinking plan for that weekend?
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