August 15th, 2006
|08:30 am - Getting back into gear|
After a weekend of excess, my Sunday morning could best be described by, who else, Jimmy Buffett:
But I woke up on the steps of a whorehouseAnd for once, that's the gods-honest truth.
Soldier told me I'd better leave
As I stumbled to find me a taxi
I saw a note pinned to my sleeve:
"It was a pleasure and a hell of an evenin'
Truly was our night to win.
But the authorities insist on my leaving
Take care my American friend."
African Friend - Jimmy Buffett
There are friends, and then there are friends. Mitty, congrats and good luck. I owe you one in return.
Current Location: Southeast of Disorder
Current Mood: amused
Current Music: "African Friend", -JB
I like the name 'Mitty.' It's very... old-fashioned in the young kids who play baseball in the yard and always wear dusty ball-caps of their favourite sports teams kind of way. It seems like a guy who goes by Mitty should chew classic bubble gum, have an affinity for juke boxes, and love his momma's home-made cooking. It also seems like he should be 12, of course, but that's okay. Don't tell me what Mitty's REALLY like: I've already got him all figured out in my mind. ;)