I Think I'm Still Drunk

Last night, you really couldn't ask for much more as a sports fan, at least in terms of games that didn't involve teams from Philadelphia. The Celtics and Magic played a very competitive game until the fourth quarter, when the Magic completely suffocated Boston to the tune of 13 points, giving Orlando the 83-75 win to force a game 7, and the Rockets demolished the Lakers to also force a game 7. What are the odds of two game 7's?



Well, evidently game 7's are pretty common, seeing as there were also two of them played last night in the NHL. The Red Wings edged out the Ducks 4-3 with a goal in the final minutes by Dan Cleary to advance to the Western Conference Finals, and the Hurricanes advanced in an overtime thriller, beating the top-seeded Bruins 3-2. Exciting stuff.

Too bad all I saw was the Detroit game, for the most part. Yeah, I did catch glimpses of the Lakers-Rockets and Bruins-Canes, but I really didn't watch. And seeing as I was focused on the Red Wings-Ducks, I missed the majority of the Magic-Celtics. But I missed those later games because I am a sucker. A big, fat sucker.

Instead of lounging in my house, planted in front of my gigantic HD television, to take in those epic games, I went out drinking. It wasn't my idea, mind you. I called this girl to see what her plans were for the weekend, and somehow, she suckered me into going out drinking. On a Thursday. As a 25-year-old. When I had to come into work this morning. Boobs can make you do things you regret.



So I dragged myself out to the bar last night, got completely tanked and returned to my house at 4 a.m. I had to wake up 8 a.m. Not good. And to top things off, I really didn't get to enjoy two very awesome games, the overtime game 7 and the Lakers getting killed. Instead, I drank myself stupid, and now I feel awful. I'm entirely too old for this.

Honestly, it's now after 10 and I still feel drunk. And sick. And the neon lights in this fucking office aren't helping. I'm not of much use to these people at work, and honestly, death seems like a better option than being here for 8 hours today.



Yet, if I had to do it all over again, 100 times out of 100 I'd do the exact same thing. Because I'm an idiot. And boobs are mesmerizing. They really are.

What's in the box?