Follow seven beers with a couple of scotches and a thimble of good marijuana, and its funny how sleep just seems to sort of come on its own. Often I never even made it to bed. Id squat down to pet the cat and wake up on the floor eight hours later, having lost a perfectly good excuse to change my clothes. Im now told that this is not called going to sleep but rather passing out, a phrase that carries a distinct hint of judgement.-David Sedaris
Posted on: Sat, 31 May 2014 01:13:14 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015