Come As You Are

When you take someone up on an invi­ta­tion for a night out, and the invi­ta­tion starts with “Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be”, be fore­war­ned. You won’t escape from such an event until well after noon the follo­wing day. When you do extri­cate your­self, with your mouth see­mingly full of cot­ton, and your head echoing memo­ries of a night you can’t quite for­get, but pre­fer not to remem­ber, you might find, as I did, that while you slept on a strange futon, yes some peo­ple still have futons, Andy Rod­dick, in a game of epic pro­por­tions, came as close as he ever had to con­que­ring Fede­rer in a grand slam — but didn’t.

Things are never as bad as they seem though. Once I get through this the future looks bright. Palin has resig­ned to do her work from the back end, that news has oversha­do­wed the news of the rush for Michael Jack­son memo­rial tic­kets, and Johnny Depp is the Mad Hat­ter. I couldn’t ask for more.

So, here is to the hair of the dog that bit me.

bluepoodle

Pro­ving once again that it’s not the size of the glass but what’s in the glass that counts.

Come again. And please, come as you are.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Pla­yer (ver­sion 9 or above) is requi­red to play this audio clip. Down­load the latest ver­sion here. You also need to have JavaSc­ript ena­bled in your brow­ser.

Peace.

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