Wake-up call

I have awoken every day this past week, at 5:30 am, to Lil' Kim telling me of her sexual escapades.
I feel confident in saying that she has led a very full life. In addition to traveling the world and coming into contact with many new people, she has also engaged in sexual intercourse with a variety of ethnic groups. Of course, I am paraphrasing here but I am sure the general impact of her message remains the same.
5:30 am is the time I take my birth control pill and vitamin at, so it seems somewhat fitting (yet highly ironic) this week that I am reminded to do so by a song in which Lil' Kim recalls instances of her own promiscuity.


But he probably wouldn't be quite as inclined to let me drive his sweet car if I puked on his basement floor

On Friday night, I watched Finding Nemo after participating in hours of excessive drinking.
It should have not come as a surprise to me that a movie that takes place almost entirely underwater would cause me to need the bathroom even more than usual while on a bender.
On one of my many bathroom breaks during the movies' 100 minute run time, I actually fell off of the toilet and hit my head on my bathtub - although I would never admit that to anybody but you, interweb.
The next day, so hungover that I was certain death was eminent, I spent an hour at the home of one of my neighbours. We were bonding over saltwater aquariums and he told me wonderful stories that I was unable to give my full attention to because I was too busy contemplating just how offended he might be if I threw-up in the middle of his aquarium room. For a few minutes I was able to forget about my nausea as I watched him feed a tiger shrimp to his lionfish (which seemed slightly ironic at the time).
Having friendly, rich neighbours has resulted in several perks for me: a) a standing offer to test drive a silver Porsche 911, and b) being gifted aquarium equipment that is valued at approximately $500.


Breakfast of Champions... and by Champions I mean Stoners

"Come over to my house. We can do mushrooms," he said.
"Dude," I paused to check the time, "it is not even nine o'clock yet. I am not eating mushrooms before I eat my oatmeal."
"Don't be silly; You can eat the mushrooms with your oatmeal," he declared. "But seriously, come over and we will do mushrooms and watch Across the Universe. I have beer."
Oh yes, beer. Because if my delicate sensibilities are offended by the very thought of partaking in recreational drug use prior to 9 AM, it is highly probable that the idea of consuming alcoholic beverages first thing in the morning is likely to trigger a different response.
"I am not doing mushrooms and drinking again. Do you remember what happened last time?" I asked him. This was a stupid question, of course, because he rarely remembers anything, let alone the things I want him to. I decided not to wait for him to answer, "Everything was wonderful until we started watching that movie and I realized I had finished off the 750 mL bottle of amaretto all by myself, in addition to the mickey of rum. After that, things were not so wonderful anymore."
"Okay, so no drinking and no mushrooms before noon. Come over; I will make you an omelet."
His downfall is that I know him too well.
"First of all," I told him, "I would never eat anything you cooked because I am not even sure that you know what a kitchen is. And second of all, you are not tricking me into eating an omelet that is made with magic mushrooms. It's just not going to happen. They don't even taste like regular mushrooms and, on top of that, I don't think you are clever enough to rehydrate the mushrooms so that I there is not a noticeable difference in texture."
"Wait, what does rehydrate mean?"
"You just proved my point."