Had a big Friday night last night. Played 18 holes, terribly. Got home, met up with the wifey, and went out to Pats, had a beer and a lard-ridden pizza. Came home, drank some wine, and put in Pirates of the Caribbean Two: I'm back for more cash. Actually it was called something else, but after watching the first half hour of those mailed in, lifeless "performances", the wifey and I decided it would be best to watch something, anything, else.
We flipped around through the tv/tivo for a bit, watching some random shows, and checking in on the Red Sox game. (<--- Jacob Ellsbury? Fast.)
Soon enough, we were tired and ready to go to bed. It was nine o'clock.
Wait, WHAT?
When the fuck did this happen?
NINE O'CLOCK?!?!?!?!
Lame. Lame. Lame.
I'd like to say we realized our lameness and decided to go out. We didn't. I finished my glass of wine, (and the wifey's too, for that matter) and went to read in bed. When I woke up, I was 65 years old.
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2 comments:
Now if I would have been there, that story would have had a different outcome!!
At least you made up for your lame ass on Saturday night!!!
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