Convince Me

When my parents rolled the dice to determine my Constitution, I think I scored a seven.  Sure, they made up for it with Strength, Intelligence and Charisma; but it’s that pesky low scoring attribute that ruins me for days after events like the Bash.

(For those of you nodding your heads knowing exactly what I mean, go put away your Level 12 Magic User)

The Bash wore me out.  In college, I could never drink on consecutive nights.  I still can’t.  But at the Bash, I did and when I got home I paid for it.  I’ve been under the weather for a few days and am just now emerging from the sickly haze that overcame me on Tuesday.

I’ve been so tired, that I missed out on Wednesday’s drink-and-shoot-the-shit-first-then-play-poker-and-win-big-cash-later adventure.  G-Rob and TheMark had to put aside their Monday disagreement and ride together.  Word on the street is that GucciRick came along, a rare occasion indeed.

So now it’s Friday.  My energy levels are back up, and I’m most likely hitting the gym.  I’ve got lunch with the Axeman to look forward to and maybe, just maybe, I may head down to the Spring Hotel solo.  Otis is WCOOP’ing for the 34th consecutive day, TheMark is hitting up the lake (sadly we have too much soccer this weekend to go with him), and G-Rob is actually spending time with Mrs. G-Rob.  He may have a fever.

It’s 9:00AM as I write this.  I’m still seesawing about whether I should go.  So I’m asking you, yes you, the readers to convince me.  I’m comment whoring, that’s true.  But still, give me a creative reason to go to the Spring Hotel by myself tonight after my workout.

If I win, perhaps I’ll give the most creative comment a no-prize.