It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.

Liquor cabinet is stacked, the kitchen has replaced the bedroom as the locale I'm most skilled in, I have the Directv ultimate choice package, I worked 50 hours this week at a job I hate, I have forsaken strange women with little chance anyway even if I hadn't, I cleaned the garage and the grill this morning and I'm five days away from having 20 years of scar tissue cut out of my intestines by a guy I met once, so no honey, mere words can't describe how little interest I have in going out tonight.