I have apparently forgotten, because last night, I was way beyond the happy buzz and well into the oh-my-god-i-might-die phase of drunkass. Went to see Billy Joel at the Garden, which is a long standing tradition with my friend, Kristen. When we were 14 and 15 years old, Kristen used to sleep over my house because my father wasn't really into the whole curfew thing. Her mom was. On those weekends, we would hop into Kristen's car (yes, the legal driving age in NJ is 17..a technicality we happily ignored), crank Billy Joel's greatest hits in the boom box that doubled as the car stereo, and hang out in every dive bar in the Village. I won't name any establishments, because I would hate to sully the reputations of those places that served me large amounts of alcohol at 14. Come to think of it, I knew better how to drink then than I did last night. I'm so glad I don't get hungover, because I would be in serious pain today. As it is, I am just dragging my ass today, and likely will be completely unproductive.
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If my math is correct, you went out and got shattered on Groundhog day. That in itself is unremarkable, but then the freakish planet alignment coincidences come into play.
For instance: Billy Joel has looked - on more than one occasion - like a groundhog.
Bill Murray (another Bill) had run-ins with both groundhogs and muscrats.
Muscrat Love was a song that you probably loved too whilst you drove around in your full-pubescent craze at age 14.
February is the month of love.
And wrapping this up, your current post of heinous Valentine's cards and images would be perfectly topped with a Groundhog, Muscrat and or 14-year-old puking in the Village.
Happy February and also Happy Black Tuesday (2/14/06).
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