"A Runaway Was Found Today Dyin' In The Alley"

March Madness is underway (or at least the conference tournament portion), and Hair Band Friday is off the chain today. When I got into the office this morning, my goal was to bong half a bottle of Jager and see how many deposition outlines I could write before I couldn't see the screen anymore. The answer: 1. No worries, though, because the ladies don't care. Hell, they're just impressed I can type at all, even when I'm sober (which is never!). The last three songs playing at ungodly levels from my speakers were ricockulous: "Wasted Generation" by Steel Dragon, "Get It Hot" by AC/DC, and "Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love" by Van Halen. Meanwhile, Leila and Candi are smoking some joints dipped in angel dust. That, my friends, can be a risky proposition. One minute you're in a law office banging two strippers at once, and then the next thing you know you're waking up in a stranger's bedroom completely shaved head-to-toe, wearing nothing but aqua socks, RecSpecs and a codpiece, bound to a chair with urine-soaked rope and blue electrical tape, being force-fed pimento loaf and Dark Eyes vodka by some chick behind you wearing latex gloves, with Rammstein blaring in the background and the stench of sour milk and stale goat's blood permeating the room, and the only two things in front of you are reruns of Simon & Simon dubbed over in German on a 13" black-and-white TV and two midgets in a 69 on some sort of make-shift altar. That's not so bad, right? Wrong, because both midgets are dudes and the chick behind you is a 75-year-old she-male dominatrix named Randy. True story. It happened to this guy I know named Kevin Juday (well, not the part about banging two strippers, and there were no drugs involved).

As you know, I haven't yet seen last night's The OC, so I am unable to provide useful insight about whether or not Marissa ate on screen. However, of note, is the fact that while bowling last night, my lovely wife Jessie shattered her previous high game by 24 pins, rolling a 151 in our final league game of the year. I've never been so proud of her. Never.

If you have not yet entered the GMYH OC pool about when Marissa will eat on screen, make sure you get your guess in by next Thursday at 9pm EST.