I Walk the Line
I don’t do it often, but apparently when I do, I strut that shit like a broke ass Richard Pryor in “Stir Crazy.”
It’s what happens when I overdrink (which is clearly different than being drunk, because I get drunk often and don’t line-walk like I did Friday night). I forget things. Portions of the evening.
Things aren’t even a blur, they’re a damn test pattern.
Which is pretty bad, forgetting things and such. I was supposed to spend the evening at three different spots. Only made it to two. Because I overdrank. And in the process, I missed a friend’s celebration, a helluva lot of phone calls, and a good chunk of what went on.
I blacked out like a Johnny Cash outfit. Which makes my walking the line that much more appropos.
So yes, I suck. I apologize to Patrice and Tamara. And to all of the alleged victims of my line-walking. From what I hear, though, I never crossed the line. So that’s a good thing.
Thankfully I’m traveling this week, so whatever I did to my co-workers will likely be forgotten by the time I get back to the office. Lawd.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna replay Chris Daughtry’s version of the song and get back on the phone. I’ve got some more investigating to do. Some more evidence to gather before I place myself under house arrest.
I suck. And yeah, on occasion, I walk the line with a “We bad!” bop. Oy.
