I.O.U.

Consider this an I.O.U. for a post saturated with my usual rapist wit, analyzing the debacle in right field last night. I'm jut way too hungover right now, but I can't wait til I have a Burger King breakfast in me. My panacea.
I feel like hell this morning, I'd pretty much rather have my eyeballs spooned out than go to work today. And you know what? This, of course, is all Boston's fault.
You know, the Red Sox are making it very difficult for me to like them. It's one thing to win over my favorite team. It's a whole new ball game (DRINK! baseball cliche) when it's a matter of compromising my own health and well being.
Which I'd say this whole hangover thing falls under.
They just better hope a Croissanwich fixes all this. I'm not kidding.