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Monday, March 15, 2004
 
She Likes to Drink with Broken Men
This weekend, I might have:
-- accidentally Super Glued my fingers together.
-- asked Mia, “Can I have that? Can I have mommy’s thong?”
-- chastised Michelle for not drinking her beers fast enough.
-- drank enough to live up to my Irish ancestry name. (Oh, wait, that was AmberBock and American cider. Feckin’ shite, I’m a bloody Yank!)
-- referred to sex as “a party.”

I’m pretty certain that I did not:
-- break my guitar (again) during our show Friday night.
-- write or call the Minute Maid people to tell them that their new limeade is the perfect home for my displaced ghetto friend, Mr. Smirnoff.
-- make any new friends.
-- do anything worthwhile and/or creative.
-- watch all of the NCAA selection special (one hour) on CBS and the three-hour “Bracketology” special on ESPN. (It was more like entertaining Mia during that first hour and then bathing her and getting her ready for bed during commercial breaks. After she was in bed, I half-watched about two and a half hours of ESPN in between magazine articles and games of Tetris on the ol' GameBoy.)