It makes me want to drink.

The wind blowing across your earlobes makes you want to drink. Looking at your kites makes you want to drink. Thinking about monkeys? Drinky.

Posts from DavidS make me thirsty.

DavidS and Plei have convinced me that alcohol is the one true way. Any lacuna in my logic are Hec's fault.

Dude, I am afraid to go sleep because I have been having these dreams.

DavidS (Hec), and Plei have nothing to do with it.

DavidS (Hec), and Plei have nothing to do with it.

So you say. Perhaps a warm toddy to put your brain at ease and slip into slumber.

Slumber is freaking me out, at the moment. I would do a warm toddy, but it would freak me out even farther.

I would be be an ordinary person. I really would.

Hey, I dumped two bottles of wine down the drain tonight.

Okay, one was an alcohol-free rose from before Lily was born, and the other was an okay red we'd managed half of before it went off. (As an observation, in our carefree childless days, we'd have finished the bottle in one night, two at most. In a week, we managed to go through slightly less than half of this bottle and that was with effort. It's the not going back for seconds that stretches the thing out.)

But still. I should not be blamed for tempting people to the dark side of drink.

The dark side of drinking is not PMM's fault.

It is officially pronounced, hereby.

Because I am the official pronouncer of such things.

The very thought of of laying down to sleep is putting me into a cold sweat.

All Gus. All the time. Welcome to Buffistas.

This is the place where we notice that AJ Langer was "that girl" from My So-Called Life and Escape from L.A., and where we bemoan the passing of Eyes for this solitary reason.