Once, long ago, I attempted writing a brief treatise while drunk. I’m sure the file is long lost, and I have a substantial buzz going (one tequila shot and one beer. Sad, huh?) and so here’s another attempt.

Shit, I started this with no idea what I was going to write about. Well, I’ve got a glowering baby on my lap (no risk of dropping him, we’re on a couch buried in cushions and blankets), so I guess I’ll write about him.

This guy is a little shit. He’s spent substantial portions of the afternoon and evening shrieking his head off for no apparent reason. I suppose it’s gas or some such, but it’s very frustrating.

Well, he’s being angelic right now, at least. The worst thing he’s doing is flopping his head onto my typing hand, and as light as his head is, that barely disrupts me. In fact he even just cast me one of those grimaces that can be mistaken for a smile. (There are a couple points I’m certain he’s actually smiled, and no, that’s not just a proud parent talking. Regardless, it’s the most magical moment in existence; this creature that has done nothing but distress and annoy you smiles at you, and suddenly it’s all OK.

Meh, that’s all I have for now. Somehow I doubt this post will seem at all out of the ordinary, except for a total lack of narrative flow. Oh, well.