So the wonderful folks at the Daily Post want to know about my last big night out. Don’t they realize what a dull thud I am? I think that would be like an ancient history lesson. I don’t have big nights out anymore because what used to take hours to recover from now takes a week to recover from.
Although, I must admit, I did go to a friend’s house a few Saturday nights ago and watched some movies. And I stayed out until 11:00! That’s right, 11:00 PM! I was shot all day Sunday. Never made it past the couch. Thank God for Hotpockets or I would have starved, because I wasn’t to be trusted with the instruments required to cook a regular meal.
Ah, but there was a time when old rudyblues could scorch a Saturday night. I recall one particular session when I lost my car. No, not like coming out of the mall and forgetting where you parked. I mean waking up the next morning in my own bed, grabbing the keys, heading out the door, and no car in the drive. I asked my roomies at the time. They had no clue. I had no clue. The cops said they didn’t have it. It was just gone.
A couple days later I was riding with my buddy in his car, down a street I had no recollection of ever being on before, and there it was. Pulled up to the curb on the wrong side of the road, the front wheel on the curb, the back wheel in the street. To this day I still don’t know how it got there or if I was even the one that left it there.
Maybe those Saturday nights are why the latest Saturday nights are so dull.
Image by FXR from Paris, France (Cut Copy (Fans)) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons