It's Sunday, So Here's Your Stairway To Heaven

I woke up today and the world wasn't funny. I made the coffee, fed the dog, did all the normal, regular things and none of it made me laugh. Perhaps, I mused, I was just laughed out. This week had been filled with the absurd, the inane, and the comical. We had Mr. Good and Purposeful share his righteous support for gay marriage with all of us while having "not a gay in me", we learned that fancy horses speak with a British accent - at least those owned by patrician out-of-touch politicians, and we discovered that Harry Reid is a pederast because...well, we just wanted it that way - and who's to say he's not? I mean, he looks like a gnome and everything! Would you go through life looking like that if not to lure children? And can he disprove it? Where are the all kids he molested? As one brilliant commenter at Rachel Lucas' blog pointed out, "Video of every private moment since 1970 or it happened."

“I won’t do it again. I swear. I can’t go to prison. It smells worse than tourists.”

Soooo, kittens, I decided to cheer myself up. I have found that the best way to do that quickly is to watch others going dooooownnn. I used to feel slightly embarrassed that I find stupid, drunk people so funny; it felt sort of mean to laugh at them when they were obviously stupid and drunk. But then our Dear Leader pointed out that they didn't do that on their own...and I realized, with some degree of relief, that I wasn't laughing AT them, I was laughing WITH them...even though they weren't laughing and probably weren't likely to be any time soon considering the carnage...and even though when they woke up with bruises, contusions and raging headaches, I wasn't really going to share any of THAT...but still my laughter is collective laughter, not individual laughter, so I needn't feel guilty.

And drunks on things that go up and down, whether motor-driven or self-propelled, are hysterical. It's Sunday morning and here's the Stairway To Heaven. Or Hell...whatever.




I started with the classic. And then found this guy. He gets a GOLD STAR for trying to put the moves on a girl WHILE on the escalator WHILE shit-faced. My money's on, "No. I won't go out with you."



Then there's Corey Someone who was kind enough to take off his shirt while completely blitzed, but it brought him to grief...is that what we call a wardrobe malfunction?



And then this is me. Straight up sober and my typical charming self.



What's UUUUUPPPP!!!? I feel better already. Actually, I could probably use a drink. But I'm going to stay off the stairs.