Like many of you, I was so distraught at the thought of young Paris Hilton facing jail time that I went on a four-day bender of booze and, of course, candy.
So, after 90-plus hours of drinking tequila and eating malt balls I woke up on windy stretch of beach with a pounding headache, a blood sugar level in the thousands, and a boot print on my chest. Wandering into a local bathroom to wash up, I thought about how, like so many of today's celebrities, my life could become tragic if I didn't see the err in my ways.
As I splashed water on my face and washed off the scent of that cross-country bus I got on during day two, I decided it was time for me to take my life in a new direction...
...to quit free-basing alcohol and high-fructose corn syrup products, and - who knows - maybe stop kicking people sleeping at the bus station just to "see what happens."
I was ready to adapt, to improve myself, to correct my path.
...and then I saw the sign.
I figured these 4" blue vinyl letters were a sign (and, yes, it was a sign - about 2 feet high and 3 feet wide - but also a figurative sign) from fate not to be argued with.
So here I am again drowning my sorrows in gin and peanut brittle...and I can't help but think:
Will David Hasselhoff recover from his latest video-taped rant?
...is that guy over there asleep or dead?
Only one way to find out.