Transmogrified. 02/28/03
Today I am a pterodactyl. I feel dried-up, bony, reptilian, a couple million years old. Trudging awkwardly around the house with my long neck stuck bent at an odd forward angle, I try to raise my squinting, beaked head. My wings and claws drag along the ground. I utter cranky harsh croaking noises at the mirror, the coffeepot, the big hairy creature who says, "Good morning, groggy goddess.”
Steve and I went over to Karl’s place last night to have a few drinks. As is often the case when visiting, we also smoked some pot and ended up climbing into the hot tub. It was good.
At the end of the night, I narrowly avoided being coaxed into going to Denny's for a plateful of greasy "food". 3:30 in the morning we got home and I sank like a rock into the pit in the middle of the bed.
Drunk, stoned, and boiled.
And today, well, at least it's Friday. I wish having fun didn't exact such a toll on my poor body. I'm so groggy.
Pterogroggadactyl.
