It's Tuesday afternoon which is usually about the time of the week that I either come to out of my blackout or my hangover has subsided enough for a little physical evalutaion. Now this past weekend was pretty run of the mill, a couple bars, a bit of day drinking, a hockey game...but nevertheless BAC's of .4 and above were undoubtedly reached. This is why on Tuesday afternoon, I am bruised from head to toe, walking with a limp, have half my voice, and a polo covered in blood.
Why does this happen? Who knows, I never remember these personal injuries that I incur while moonlighting for 48 hours as a weekend warrior. I compare it to the Bond villain in The World is Not Enough who due to nerve damage can feel no pain. I'm sure in the midst of my memory lapses the pain may be excrutiating but since I am barely conscious at the time of these accidents I chalk it up to bad nightmares. Unfortunately like those of the kids from A Nightmare on Elm Street, I wake up and the damage is still there. And you know how much Freddie hates kids that seemingly get drunk, fornicate, and have a good time...in fact maybe that was the underlying theme of all those 80's slashers...the killer never existed, he was just a figment of the teens' blackout, they were really inflicting the damage upon themselves only with the help of their pals Jimmy Beam and Jack D.
No worries though, like Elizabeth Taylor's heart after divorce number 7, my body will heal only to be destroyed again a week later...and like a frat paddle on bare ass, it hurts a little less every time.
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