Just found out I may have to stay on call in New York next weekend in case the war breaks. Since I work in News and all. I’m supposed to be going away with my father and brother on Friday for our once-every-two-year trips to Myrtle Beach to drink beer and eat shrimp. So I’m feeling a little sorry for myself, if not a bit pissed off, primarily at Bush, or Sadam, or whomever exactly is responsible for the possible war.
I know, I know, things could be worse. I could be one of the 95 (and counting) victims of the club fire at that Great White show in Rhode Island. Or any of a host of calamaties elsewhere in the world.
But you know how it is: sometimes it’s tough to see past your own woe. Which currently includes being overworked, underslept, and looking at Grammy Sunday in less than 24 hours. That said, I’m outa’ here. Hope you’re well. G’night.