Every time I go to bed drunk, I have crazy insane dreams about kayaking down a river of Orange Mountain Dew. So when I wake up, I do my very best to recreate the situation.

I get in my car and drive mostly unconsciously to the nearest gas station to buy every color of beverage I can find. This includes soda, juice, "ades," milks, and so forth. Note: Orangeade is gross.

The lady manning (or womanning) the register was less concerned with the armful of bottles I dumped on the counter than with my stomach. "You have such a nice stomach!" she exclaimed, "What's your secret?"

"Oh," I said, "I'm going to go throw all these up."

Well I thought I was being funny. But her and everyone around me in line just went blank and then looked away. "Kidding! Lots of sit-ups!"

Ironically, I did end up hurling the orangeade because I was hungover and it tasted like ass. But I didn't plan it.

Anyway. I have a movie review too. You should see Amityville Horror not because it's scary, but because of the beautiful hot hot male lead who spends the vast majority of the time chopping wood in a scantily clad manner.