I ate a lot yesterday. And drank a little. But what else can you do on Superbowl Sunday when you really could care less about the game? I think I ate my weight in potato skins/meatballs and drank at least a fishbowl of hornsby's. And I fed at least as much as I ate to the three dogs begging at my feet. So everyone won.
I was in bed by ten, but the problem this morning is that my voice now sounds like that of a thirteen year old boy and my eyes are wincing at the flourescent lights in my office. I don't understand it, since I have drunk waaaay more than this on weeknights and have gotten significantly fewer hours of sleep and felt better.
The only solution is to have taco bell and a beer for lunch.
But hey, how about those Giants?
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