I'm back at work, and a fine monday it is. I had 3 hours of sleep last night, BY choice, and am not regretting it now that it's mid afternoon, but this morning at seven afore midday I certainly was cursing my brain, body and the horses they rode in on. Jesus Christ in a sidecar wearing goggles. I'm a damned fool.

I can hear the fax machine printing. I have to go and collect shit. One sec. Hey shut up, yes I do work occasionally ok? Don't be so damned smug about it. Wow, I am crusteeeeee.

We were having conversations last night about the universe and that apparently Einstein could conceive of 12 dimensions, and that he was actually able to think in four dimensions, as opposed to the three that most of us think in, and the occasional 2 that kids in Ladner think in. hehe. No one but Vancouverites will get that reference, so I won't bother explaining it. These are things you talk about over $40 bottles of wine, of which we had 3. SHIT ON A STICK. I'm glad I wasn't paying cause that's insane INSANE insane.

I have basil in my teeth. I also have three UDI's.

Unidentified Drinking Incidents.

These are things that you wake up with and don't know how they happened. I have three bruises, none of which I am able to recall the origins of. UDI's or otherwise known as UDA's (unidentified drinking accidents) can consist of the small and insignificant, such as bruising, losing one's pants, etc, up to the middle range events, like awakening with jiffy marker eye-brows, your hand in a bowl of water and pee-crotch, or a happy face shaved into something personal. Then there's the grand scale UDI's or UDA's such as waking up in Tulsa, wearing a wedding ring and sleeping next to someone named Rhonda or BillyBob, or missing a kidney, or anything of that nature.

I have only experienced level one UDI's, I am such a classy drunk. I only fall over and bang the shit out of my legs. Unlike Kirin, who managed somehow to fall headfirst over a chair of mine that was to the right of the futon,when he was attempting to go to the left of the futon. He stayed there, tipped over for a good two minutes while his long leather clad legs flailed madly in the air, and we peed ourselves laughing.

He's such a suave guy, but BOYO, is that illusion slaughtered or what?

OK I can hear the fax again. Must--go--collect--shit.