Sunday Night Anxiety, Vol. 1092

It was a nice weekend.

The wife's parents were here and they couldn't have been nicer. Generous and kind.

We had another b-day party for Baby Bungle, this one for relatives only. Baby Bungle did her thing.

The sun shined.

I chewed some gum.

I played some softball and pounded the Bud a little bit. I even hit a nice CSHR.

I spoke to some friends. They were doing the same old stuff that they like to do.

Vic was in Chicago pounding the Bud and selling T-shirts. It was 95 degrees but he had the generator going and I bet it was only around 37 degrees inside each bottle.

We talked about the great beer-drinking achievements of the past 50 years. I said that our old friend Butch once claimed that he drank like 30 beers in one day. Vic said maybe if it was a hot day, because then you sweat it out. That seemed to make sense, although it gave me a hangover just thinking about it.

We talked about Wade Boggs and his airborne 64 and Andre the Giant with his incredible but somehow plausible 117.

I think I've had about 20 or 25 in a night a couple of times. You think that's about right?

I didn't step in any shit this weekend. In the 70's you stepped in shit like every ten days.

But I did have to work for like 5 hours on Sunday. If we accept these quick numbers:
1. 33% of your life you are asleep.
2. 25% you are hard at work sacking shit.
3. 19% you are doing bullshit tasks around the house or going to the dentist or filling your gas tank or some other crap you'd rather not be doing.

When you consider that, when you consider that only 23% of your life actually belongs to you, maybe 18 out of your 76 years if you're lucky, and then take away maybe five of those years if you have kids -- time becomes very valuable. The time you own. Priceless.

So when they call you and tell you there's extra shit to be sacked this weekend, and maybe every weekend for awhile, it makes you stop and take measure of your remaining life. How do you want to spend it?

Do you want to stay up late watching old movies on TV?

Do you want to travel?

Do you want to play ball?

Do you want to pound the Bud?

Do you want to embrace your wife, your husband, your kid, your boyfriend, your superintendent, and look at the sunset?

Do you want to open a sandwich shop and live in the suburbs? Driveway, hoop, beer fridge in the garage?

Do you want to reminisce about the good times while sitting by the pool having more good times?

Do you want to be outside more than an hour a day?

Or do you just want to keep on doing what you're doing, giving the man the extra hours he needs and creeping towards death with a blank look on your face?

That's probably the one I'll end up going with.

***

For the first year and then some of verbungle's existence, we had no commenting system in place. We just said a bunch of crap and maybe you read it maybe you didn't. Then, finally, we added the HaloScan shit in June 2004. Geniuses, tell me how many comments have been left since then. Use whatever means are available to you and keep in mind that comments on the lists, predictions, reviews pages, etc. count towards this total. 38 points for an exact guess. 20 if you're within 50 comments. Otherwise, 12 points to whoever's closest.

Also, if anybody wants to handle the softball recap, let me know. Otherwise I'll do the honors.