Last night involved what some might call a heroic amount of Wild Turkey in a trendy debutant-esque loft somewhere in the heart of Mt Clemens. We also went to Buffalo Wild Wings, and I'm sure you'll excuse me if I refrain from calling it "B-dubs." It's bad enough I was basically surrounded by frat boys for the latter part of the evening, a situation which never fails to leave a sour taste in my mouth, the kind you get when you want to rip someone's throat out. Nay, I shall call the places I drink heavily at by their proper names, lest I start sounding like one of those Abercrombie-clad buffoons, further promoting the acceptance of their nepotistic rape-culture.

Unfortunatly, the Wild Turkey has left me with that sloshing in my stomach this morning and the sort of pressure on the back of the head that might have one believing he's slowly being hit by a truck. As if being woke by the neighbors annoying dog wasn't enough, I arrive at work to find the tanning salon next door doing a fair amount of remodeling. Hammers. Saws. Drills.

This day cannot end soon enough, hah.

So what's your Halloween costume?