Observations From The Bottom Of The Bottle

When I write something when I'm drunk - that I am of course convinced is passionate, insightful or mind blowing - I think my handwriting is graceful and fluid, melting from the pen onto the paper. When I wake the next morning in a mercifully darkened room and I can see that it looks more like the work of two mice, one standing on the shoulders of the other as they both try to work a pen.
You can even see the bits where the mouse on top has his lost his balance and sent the pen skittering when he tried to haul himself back upright...

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I'm watching a funeral home ad and I know I'm drunk because I'm substituting the kindly pragmatic looking spokesman's dialogue in my head and am absurdly amused by it.

"You got dead people? Yeah, you get that. Better get rid of them before they stink up the joint. Call us, we'll respect your dead people like all get out. We'll respect the hell out of your dead people!"

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You know that you're drunk when you start thinking that you need to make announcements that run along the lines of "Listen! Listen everybody! Mashed potatoes are fucking delicious!" and you actually expect this to be a revelation, for people to turn to each other in wonder and say "Shit! She's right! Mashed potatoes are fucking delicious! How come I've never realised exactly how delicious until today?"
It's not my fault!
I'm absolutely murdering a bottle of Cab Merlot at the moment and this Shepherd's Pie is fucking delicious. Probably something to do with the mashed potatoes...