Do you ever have one of those mornings? When you wake up, your mouth feeling the consistency of fine grains of sand yet your pillow is damp, wondering how it got to be morning? A morning when you stand up, turn off the alarm clock, nearly stumble while trying to slide your foot into a slipper and can't figure out how to put your arm in your bathrobe? The morning where your thoughts (such as they are) revolve around endless piles of bagels, accompanied by a trough of cream cheese with a gas tank's worth of iced coffee?
"Fierce, Amy!" Yeah, the hangover will be. Thanks, Pabst! Not.