Night before graduating. Night before 21st. Night before Christmas. Seem to have a tendency to go out boozing the night before big events. Leaving myself fairly funked the day of the event. Heavy night on Saturday, the night before Oscar went wild. Leaving me with little interest in even moving last night. Not that I intended on going to the Oscars itself. Intended/invited, potato/tomato. However. Unfortunately. Now. Sell-out. Fraud. With a sudden need for relevant stories. Not just cave-writing gibber. So I had to giddy up and go out. Leaving me now battered. Fully plucked. Goosed. Tired ape. Brain is pretty empty. Except for three thoughts… One: Far easier than one might think to get to dance with the ultimate trophy wife. Two: Unless it’s your trophy wife, then you might as well be holding a bottle of milk. And, three: If you woke up with a man named Oscar in your bed, how would one get rid of him? Anyways, enough talk, more music! Continue Reading »