Saturday

10:15 a.m.

The alarm goes off, I hit the snooze.

10:23

The alarm goes off again, I hit the snooze.  (This time I throw the clock into an immense pile of socks next to an old pizza and a pair of dusty wingtips.)

11:18

Rolling out of bed, I rub sleep and what appears to be contractor-grade spackle out of my eyes.  I then stumble into the kitchen and search the cabinets for coffee and a box of Fruit Loops. 

11:24

Unable to locate the Fruit Loops, I settle for some Raisin Bran topped with maple syrup and coffee creamer.

11:26

Discovering the coffee creamer has transformed into a jiggling, brick-like mass that smells alarmingly like baby ick, I check the expiration date.  Seeing that it should have been thrown away sometime last month, I put it back in the fridge and revert to my old stand by – tap water.

12:02

Strolling into the living room, I flop down on the couch, put my feet up on the coffee table, and proceed to watch the 49ers slaughter the Giants 24-7.  I scream, throw things at the TV, and yell at the ref…a lot.

3:48

Looking for the remote, I find 6 Beer Nuts in between the couch cushions.  Realizing how hungry I am, I proceed to eat them.  (One even has some chocolate on it…this greatly elevates my mood.)

4:00

After stretching 3 or 4 times, I scratch my backside then re-align my sweat pants to face north.  I then watch the highlights of the 49ers slaughtering the Giants where I continue to yell at the ref, because clearly the man is either drunk, brain damaged or worse.

4:46
  
I stop and wonder what that smell is.

4:48

While aimlessly searching the living room for either a dead rat or some old cabbage, I get an overwhelming feeling that I’ve forgotten something.

4:51

I check my pockets.  There I find a movie stub, a pack of warm, mangled gum, some pant fuzz, and a phone number.  Finally, remembering I have a date, I run to the shower and strip off my clothes faster than a Catholic cheerleader on prom night.

5:16

After a thorough hose down (taking extra time to wash the ears, the underarms and the nether regions) I shave. Twice.  First down, then up.

5:18

Deciding to take one last pass with the razor, I nick my chin and bleed like I’ve never bled before.  So naturally, I do the only rational thing – I panic.  I throw down the razor and spin around a few times trying to remain calm, but at this point there’s blood everywhere: in the sink, on the floor, all over the towels, even on my forehead. Finally, I manage to control it with tremendous amounts of toilet paper and some Scotch tape.  When it’s all over, I step back and asses the scene. I can’t decide if my bathroom looks more like the St. Valentine’s Day massacre or a Mexican operating room after a botched heart transplant. 

5:20

I go with the Mexican operating room.

5:39 

With bloody toilet paper hanging from my head like a dying piñata, I go to my dresser for a clean shirt.  Remembering my dresser drawers have been missing ever since Buck helped out with my last move, I make a bee-line for my new and improved dresser- the clothes dryer.

5:40

I pick out a blue t-shirt that is only mildly wrinkled and
put it on.  Feeling a bit too casual, I whip it off and replace it with a collared number that makes me look less like a serial killer and more like a good lay.

5:43

Hopping in the car, I check the rear view to see if my chin is still bleeding.  It is.  Unable to locate any Kleenex-like substances, I tear off a piece of the New York Post that I find lodged under the seat.  Hoping it’s as absorbent as the Times, I proceed to dab.

5:53

After driving for 10 minutes with yesterdays headlines stuck to my chin, I pull up to a building that will either become a future love den, or a place of interminable and unrelenting horror.  For a moment, I am actually gripped with fear.

6:03

Laughing it off, I stop for a second and wonder if my underwear is clean. 

6: 04         

Realizing it’s the same pair I wore last night, I figure what does it matter, I probably won’t get laid anyway.