Tequileria

I'm in the Tampa airport. It's 4:17 and my flight is delayed 3 hours. For no particular reason, as the NY area does not have rain right now, though they did in the morning.

So, I've started drinking.

The couple next to me, in their 50s at least, were carded. They asked what I was typing earlier, which was a joke of politics entry, and I told them. The wife made a face when I mentioned that McCain screwed up a few times this week and people are thinking he's going senile, or at least too old for President.

Basically she brushed me off, like "why would anyone take seriously him saying that Iraq and Pakistan border each other?"

I'm not sure. But I think most people would like their next President to NOT be a fucking moron.

The woman opposite me is balancing her checkbook.

Ah, the lost and lonely of the Tampa airport.

I'm heading to NY, to celebrate Karen's and my birthday. Her's is the 31st. Mine is August 3rd. We're going down to Atlantic City to try and win next months rent.

Crotchety, I'll do my best to play some slots in your honor.

I wish the flight wasn't so delayed. There's only so much drinking I can do with 3 hours to wait. Then, I'll get on the flight and want to drink more, at extortion prices, or I'll have a stomach ache and throw up on my neighbor.

Or both. You never know these days. One bottom out and I could shoot puke three rows.

What else is going on today? Just work, the usual. Nothing much.

Going to see The Dark Knight tomorrow, on IMAX, at 9:30 AM, and it better be deserted. I don't want a bunch of crying kids spoiling my fun. Our fun.

Then it's cooking dinner. Then it's, oh, she's got this killer gym in the building, so, we'll be working out. And, ahem.

Saturday, not sure what's going to happen, but I'm hoping to get together with my buddies at my friend Pete's restaurant. We shall see.

Nothing much else going on, though and I can only type for so long before I start repeating myself, and that's never fun, unless on purpose.

So, I hope you're all enjoying yourselves. And if I die in the plane crash, Karen gets the L painting. Just, you know, so that it's a matter of record.

The rest of you, sorry, you get nothing but fond memories of my brief blog writing career.

Wish me luck.