Two martinis, two beers and no dinner

As you can see since i've moved to the eastern shore of Virginia my hair has grown out just a little bit. In length and area occupation.

This is a picture that my dog Angus snapped of me this morning.

How did I get to this state?

It was not difficult.

Last night met a friend at a local establishment after work. Decided to treat myself special. Hey it is Wednesday afterall and I am still alive and semi well.

"A gin, dry, dirty martini on the rocks please" I like it on the rocks because it makes me feel a tad bit better about myself knowing that a little water will at some point meet the gin before it enters my body.

It also sounds better than calling it what it is...a small vat of gin! Less classy.

Like school on Saturday I am...no class.

Oh why not one more martini? I mean as long as you don't go for the third one you are ok or so they say. What they don't (whoever they is by the by) mention is that yes you will be fine if you don't go for the third but maybe not so much if you then move to a dark import beer. Two to be exact.

Once at home the night then proceeded to go down hill.

First with my dog - he was not happy with me at all. I was late afterall and I delayed his one meal way past his breaking point or shall I say peeing point? He stood tall, proud with a determined unforgiving look on his bicycle seat shaped head face and peed in the kitchen...a lot of pee. I then let him out and the last I saw of him for the eve was his ass as he bolted into the night. Even the promise of a large chunk of prime rib could not bring him back. He was out for the night.

I didn't mind. I had things to do. Well one thing to do. Ok two. Drink a glass of white chilled wine and boogey for an hour to Neil Young, old Neil Young. Nice. I now have a few new very nice very put together dance routines for future parties or if on a small stage.

Then to bed I did go. Out before head hit pillow.

Woke and there was the dog, camera and the same unforgiving look on his face.

Snap, flash and here I am.

The moral of this little diddy? If your dog doesn't want it; the chunk o prime rib? Perhaps you should eat it, call it dinner and a night.