Tossing. Turning. Panicking.
When we throw parties, usually no one shows.
But this time, with nearly 200 people in green on the Evite, including a new-born known for downing breast milk like there’s no tomorrow, I’m, how do you say, gettin’ my freak on.
Er, not exactly.
But something to the effect of fearing “ending up homeless and destitute, sucking d…” best sums up the cold-sweat-waking-up phenomenon I’m experiencing this humid, dark morning.
Or maybe it’s the still all too fresh and painful memory of this.
Let there be sunshine aplenty and minimal pissing on my floors.
Keep me from ending up like Joel Goodson with a guy named Guido giving me advice about f**king with another man’s livelihood.
And grant that a good time be had by all.