A baby monster: Young and naïve still—yet, wise— Rising like the moon.
Do inebriates simply bathe in the booze they drink? Is that why the Friday fog is so heavy around them? Or is their hand-eye coordination so altered by drink that they miss their mouth and mop spills up with their shirt? It's funny, because despite those missed steps, slurred speech and leering eyes, the drunken... Continue Reading →