The Angry Drunk

I'm pissed off.

I'm drunk and pissed off. I don't know why. Mrs Schwartz left at about 10 this morning. I ate lunch, then slept, hugging Montgomery, until about 3:30. I woke up, then went to Home Depot, then stopped at my favorite watering hole. It turns out the place was sold to new management last week. A hot-as-balls new bartender is working. Her name is Valerie. She speaks russian. She's blond, she's wearing low-enough jeans that she has to shave "down below", she has an ass smaller than most 6-year olds. After drooling on the bar all through dinner, I came home and walked the dogs. I proceeded to twist me ankle just doing that (the booze might have helped). I passed out on the couch, woke up, yelled at the dogs, quickly realized my ankle was sprained when I put weight on it and collapsed on the floor. dragged myself to the computer.
I need to do laundry, as I have nothing to wear to work tomorrow, but fuck it. I'm going to pass out on the couch and wear something from the floor of the bedroom.