Late Morning
2006-01-10 3:21 p.m.
So at about 530 this morning, I'm printing out "The Age of Reason" by Thomas Payne for who-the-fuck-knows-why, and my phone rings. It's the client who I just finished work for, and being that I'm no longer behind in work, I'm happy to hear from him and instinctually grab the phone. As the phone reaches my ear, I'm overwhelmed with the sense of... "Mark, you are 3/4 into a bottle of scotch, you do NOT belong on the phone with a client right now."This was true, and my sense was correct. So i play along with the phone call, citing a long night of work. He believed - as he's no reason not to, and I send him whatever he needed - hopefully 'whatever he needed' does not resemble donkey porn upon delivery�
I pour the last glass of the bottle, thinking to myself � �Damn him for failing me!!!� in reference to my roommate.
He hasn�t actually failed me � but rather just the opposite� As he was headed to his room at about 12 I mentioned that I might walk to the store for a bottle of John Black. His attempt at hiding the fact that my statement stopped him dead in his tracks failed miserably.
He helped with 1/2 that bottle until 3am - mind you he has work at about 8am or something. And so, he hadn�t failed me, but for the moment� DAMN HIM! Prepared to put the beast behind me... i sit back, and regain focus, look at the glass, and my entire being says "dude, fuck you, no." I passed out immediately, there on the couch. No chance of making it beyond page 8 of this 50 page rant.
Next I know I'm waking up to phone calls at 230 in the afternoon. I didn't answer them, but I called them back soon after - very chipper and happy. There's nothing quite like polishing off a bottle (close enough) and waking up sans hang over in a good mood.
Anyways... good morning.