Most of the day, I spent playing "pirates" by myself. I just put on an eye patch and a gold earring, got drunk, and screamed nonsense until someone beat on my door with a broom handle. It spanned roughly seven hours and, you know,… I lost a lot of good men on my ship. Gorgotriev, the beastly sea octopus, stole the sacred amulet and turned my men into that white substance that gets stuck to the corners of Abe Vigoda's mouth, so I had to defeat the beast on my lonesome, with only a shaker of "Morton's" salt and the guidance of my trusty parrot, Samuel.
I sincerely wish this were all true, because then I could at least say that I did
something Saturday night. Unfortunately, the actual level of pathetic that my day reached rivals -and surpasses- that of this creepy story. I only left the house to buy kitty litter, if that tells you anything. I also watched Cape Fear and did a few other things, but the details are a bit hazy because the enjoyment of my life overwhelms me so.