kiwiwolf
Gun Totin'
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2001
- Posts
- 7,839
So last night I decided it would be a good idea to have a couple of Scotches just to lubricate the fingers while typing. I look through the cabinet and lo and behold... I have a bottle of Glenmorangie.
Morning comes and I discover that I had a bottle of Glenmorangie. My lovely little daughter wakes me as usual by racing in and diving on top of her Dad and bouncing on him rapidly screaming "Daddy take me to Chipmunks!" a treat I had promised her last night. Managing (just) to hold my dinner where I deposited it last night, I roll out of bed and just try to stand without falling.
"Daddy, can I have eggs for breakfast... pleeeeeease?!" These are words that any hung over father dreads. The very thought of cooking eggs is enough to almost make a grown man hurl, but these are the sacrifices we make as parents. My first mission however is to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth and rehydrate my wreck of a body. It is days like this that I wish I could take my coffee intravenously.
Too scared to go into the bathroom in case I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I decide to postpone my shower until I feel more human... next month maybe. Breakfast cooked and my first 4 cups of industrial strength coffee under my belt it is time to log onto Lit and check to see what I got up to and try and perform some damage control.
So here I sit in my dressing gown, resembling Sigmund the Sea monster, wearing sunglasses, popping Panadol like they were M&Ms, feeling like shit and SWEARING that I will never drink again... til next time.
How has your morning been?
Morning comes and I discover that I had a bottle of Glenmorangie. My lovely little daughter wakes me as usual by racing in and diving on top of her Dad and bouncing on him rapidly screaming "Daddy take me to Chipmunks!" a treat I had promised her last night. Managing (just) to hold my dinner where I deposited it last night, I roll out of bed and just try to stand without falling.
"Daddy, can I have eggs for breakfast... pleeeeeease?!" These are words that any hung over father dreads. The very thought of cooking eggs is enough to almost make a grown man hurl, but these are the sacrifices we make as parents. My first mission however is to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth and rehydrate my wreck of a body. It is days like this that I wish I could take my coffee intravenously.
Too scared to go into the bathroom in case I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I decide to postpone my shower until I feel more human... next month maybe. Breakfast cooked and my first 4 cups of industrial strength coffee under my belt it is time to log onto Lit and check to see what I got up to and try and perform some damage control.
So here I sit in my dressing gown, resembling Sigmund the Sea monster, wearing sunglasses, popping Panadol like they were M&Ms, feeling like shit and SWEARING that I will never drink again... til next time.
How has your morning been?
better be careful hon... or I'll peel down those panties and give you a spanking on the boards.
