Pardon moi! Are we going to Germany?

You know that you're an alcoholic when you find yourself speaking to the bartender in a hundred and second street dive, eating pretzels and having already started your third beer before the end of the third inning of the matinee game that is your life. Only lonely people do that, only lonely people who are running from something they should be doing, like going to communion, or on that trip to Spain, you know which one, the one to Barcelona. Wake up person and realize the special high that has come over you. Are you drunk? Is that a bad thing? Am I drunk? It's only ten thirty in the morning. Fuck baseball lets fight bulls!