Loaded Places

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Here's to your good looks, baby, here's to my health, here's to the loaded places that we take ourselves. When it comes to luck you make your own, tonight I got dirt on my hands but I'm building me a new home.

Yeah, yeah, listen to the words and I'm ashamed to say that I had one word wrong - I always thought Bruce was saying here's to the bloody places that we take ourselves. My sister Carrie set me straight by offering a toast last night.

And man, we toasted. Grey Goose, the Yankees trashing the Red Sucks (where's Frank Zocco, by the way, awful quiet this summer), and a bit of Bruce mixed in.

Yet it was a day and night that was trapped deep inside the whirling mix of confusion that has been 2009.

It's been a year that has left me wondering, for the first time, if mental help is seriously required, and a year in which everything has been turned upside down.

And I did a toast last night to the loaded places where I take myself, which is of course, a sentence that contains two distinct meanings and brings a semblance of clarity to an already clouded mind.

And that, my friends, has been the constant theme in this year of confusion. If '09 has taught me anything it's that there are no definitive answers where previously I was convinced that I had it all worked out.

So, we went to the goose, and the loaded place where we take ourselves.

Thanks, Carrie for the clarification on the line.

Now to get rid of this freaking headache.

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