SUPERBAD

In about a half hour there will be God knows how many people in my tiny, one bedroom apartment demanding mini corndogs because I'm an idiot. Who, yes, drank again last night only a measly little week after saying never again.

(BUT! I am not hung over because I had ONE. And it was a little one. Only a half-liter as opposed to the FRIGGIN HUGE liter mugs Hofbrau is known for. I am awesome with the restraint and willpower. BOW DOWN BEFORE MY AWESOMENESS AND WEEP AT MY GLORY!)

There will also be a steak for McLovin, the Artist Formerly Known as DO (which, seriously, Superbad... was HILARIOUS) because, apparently, I owe him a steak from YEARS AGO when I said something funny.

At a very inappropriate time.

And, being the jerk that he is, rather than nurture my comedic genius and guide it to it's climactic fruition, he demaned I repay my tactless remark with a steak. Actually, with several steaks.

But he'll take what I give him, damnit.