Comfortably numb.

So here I am, weaving in and out of a DayQuil coma today. Riding up the elevator with some guy dressed in his typical, plain, dark suit and blue shirt with white collar and cuffs. And so he started talking to his buddy who looked just like him, about the particular "Seinfeld" episode where Jerry had to wear the stupid looking puffy pirate shirt. And he went over and over the line again and again for his buddy, as we climbed higher and higher, and he laughed louder and louder at his hackneyed rendition of this recycled gag, over and over, louder and louder until I stood as much of it as I could, and from the depths of my soul rose the contents of stomach, and I puked all over him while his buddy watched. And then his buddy pointed, and then said in his smarmiest voice ever "Well, Peterson, I guess YOU wouldn't mind wearing a puffy white pirate shirt NOW, wouldya, buddy?"

Regrettably, except for the DayQuil coma part, none of that happened; but believe me it could have.