"When I Drink Alone, I Prefer To Be By Myself"

“Jeez-us H. Kr-eye-st! I think you’ve got a hard-on!”

I miss my family. I suppose I’m not the world’s best traveler. Alexis started school this week. It would be more than a bit better if I were at home. I’m watching Law & Order: CI and D’Onofrio just asked a little girl if her mom ever called her “Jennifer Juniper”. Nothing like a Donovan song reference to make me throw up in my mouth…well, that and the 6 pints of beer…

“You climb obstacles like old people fuck! You’re too slow!”

I only have cell phone service out in the parking lot between the motel and the gas station next to it. Unfortunately, there were about 17 semi trucks zooming by every 30 seconds when I tried to speak to my wife. LOUD! (The trucks, not my wife – I’m the loud one.)

“Are you quitting on me? Well, are you? Then, quit! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle!”

I cut myself in 5 separate spots on my face while shaving this morning. That has to be a new record for me. Paging the sorrowful young Werther. Am I subconsciously suicidal or merely clumsy beyond imagination? I’m guessing it was just the latter.

“You slimy looking, walrus looking piece of shit…”

My gawd, this beer tastes goooooood! I haven’t had more than two beers in an evening in months. I’m hoping to drink until I pass out tonight. I can’t wait to read this mental diarrhea tomorrow morning, after I’ve slept this off…

“Did your parents have any children that lived? I’ll bet they regret that. You’re so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece.”

Have I ever told you how much I love the song “For The Turnstiles” from Neil Young’s On The Beach album? (“All the bush league batters/Are left to die on the diamond/In the stands/The home crowd scatters/For the turnstiles”) while Ben Keith plays an amazing dobro and Neil picks on a wicked banjo.

I just saw a promo spot for the U.S. Open (Tennis). I like Andre Agassi.

“Until then you are unorganized, grab-ass-tic pieces of amphibian shit. You are not even human-fucking-beings!”

Oh, that last Gunnery Sgt. Hartman quotation reminded me of the Alec Baldwin character from Glengarry Glen Ross. “Put that coffee down. Coffee’s for closers only. You think I’m fuckin’ with you? I am not fuckin’ with you. Your name’s Levine? You call yourself a salesman, you son of a bitch?”

That has to be one of the all-time great characters in movie history, especially in terms of highlighting the emotional vacancy inherent in being a hardcore businessman.

“The good news is you’re fired. The bad news is you’ve got, all you’ve got just 1 week to reclaim your jobs. Starting with tonight. Starting with tonight’s sit. Oh, are you listening now? Have I got your attention now? Good. Because we’re adding a little something to this month’s sales contest. 1st prize is a Cadillac Eldorado. Anyone wanna see 2nd prize? 2nd prize is a set of steak knives. 3rd prize is you’re fired.”

I hate myself when I’m working.

“The leads are weak? The fuckin’ leads are weak?! You’re weak.”

I’m listening to one of my favorite Pearl Jam tunes. It’s one of the songs from the Singles soundtrack. It's called “Breath.” Great, stinging electric guitar…

“‘Fuck you’, that’s my name! I made $970,000 last year. How much did you make?”

Love that Alec Baldwin character…

Ooooooh! Now, I’ve got “Porch” from Pearl Jam’s debut, Ten. “Whatthefuckisthisworldcoming to?”…“This could be the day…”

Fuck it. I’m putting some fuckin’ pants on and walking to the Waffle House. I promise I’ll look both ways before I cross the highway…

Added this morning: I passed out before leaving for the Waffle House...just so you know.