[Drunkard's note: Team BHI wholeheartedly supports boozing to overcome last night's booze-induced trauma, but be sure to avoid actual hair of a dog. If you're into these goofy pictures, go to I Has a Hot Dog for more.]
Still no review of The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner. I couldn't pull myself away from Superman: The Movie and its incredibly loud and inconceivably frequent commercial breaks, which allowed me ample time to clean my whole apartment and discover the $40 I hid from myself two weeks ago and had forgotten all about.
Oh, dear readers, how you amuse me with your clever, acerbic and mostly inane commentary. Now, for the world to see!
Nitmos suggested some important improvements to my new running hat: "The hat is missing the side beverage holder and straw for hydration. The first marathon fueled by Jameson? Could be you."
Answer: These modifications are forthcoming, but the tools I bought for the project say not to operate when under the influence of alcohol. Who knows when that'll happen. Meanwhile, I've been dropping weight to account for the added weight of liquor.
Roisen criticized my choice of post-run refueling: "I'm all about the chicken wings ... but Labatt? Where was Jamesons?"
Answer: Ma'am, don't you worry about it. The Jameson will get its reps. Besides, they don't sell ice-cold 22-ounce drafts of Jameson. But boy howdy if they did ...
Regarding my toddler encounter at the track, many of you said I should have plowed over, hurdled, punted or mowed down the toddler while developing a game of some sort.
Answer: What's wrong you people?
Apparently, I gave Xenia a complex with my offhand comment on her possible -- but clearly not verified -- loveliness. She says, "I'm perplexed. How does one verify their loveliness? Do I need to submit signed affidavits, report cards, a bribe?"
Answer: What's the pounds-to-dollars exchange rate these days?
[Drunkard's note: Team BHI does not accept personal checks, nor cheques.]
Sadly, I was too slow with providing solutions to rid your liquor cabinets of neglected bottles. Sarah admits her alcohol abuse: "My solution to my compulsive booze purchase of Absente was to pour it down the drain after five years in the back of the cupboard. I tried to get into it in a sort of 'I can be all cool and 'Continental' in a turn-of-the-century Bohemian Parisian' kind of way ... didn't work."
Answer: Let this be a lesson to you all. I've had real and fake absinthe. Both tasted terrible. One was worth it. So I guess I can't condemn your actions too much. Did your drain at least smell like licorice afterward?
Have a fine weekend, teammates. Happy Hour is nearly upon us! Run well and drink well.