03.19.02 :: 10:23 pm

I have to question the mental prowess of the people behind "Blind Date," because someone convinced a whole bunch of other folks that a first date at the firing range is fun. Nice to meet you, here's a gun.

Whatever, I suppose. At least drinking factors in heavily on all these dates, and alcohol spells "Blind Date Meltdown" nine times out of ten, so there's that. Oh, and a slobbery hot tub makeout session is always a possibility.

Went to the doctor, came home with diagnosis: bronchitis and two prescriptions: one to kill bacteria, one to loosen the phlegm and make my bronchial journey more productive. At least I'll be rewarded for my efforts with more gooey gobbers. Because nothing is more sorrowful and sad than a twenty minute coughing fit with no result. I mean, come on! Gimme something! Throw me a bone, here!

Bed time. Move over, Stoosh-dog. This bed just ain't big enough.

One last thing. Quote of the night, courtesy of My Boy: "I can't believe they're allowed to show cartoon nipples."

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