I had a big allergy attack this morning, and sneezed for about 20 minutes. In the shower. Funfunfun.

I also feel crappy because I was up late last night. My friend Jason and 2 of his work buddies are in town, and we went to a bar and watched football and drank beer. And it was fun. And I'm paying for it a little today. Just a little. Could be worse.

They do this raffle thing at that bar... you get tickets in the beginning, and each time you order drinks, and then they periodically draw and if you have the ticket you pick an envelope and you win a prize. I love winning prizes.

Once, visiting my sister Mollie in college, we went out to rent First Wives Club because some man had done her wrong. One of the dealies at that video store was every few videos you rented, you'd get a chance to spin this wheel for a prize. Various things... ranging from a free rental to a decent chunk of cash.

When the clerk told us it was spin time, Mollie, ever the generous hostess, graciously looked at me and told me I could spin it for her.

Dizzy with visions of Bob Barker and his skinny microphone and a cheering studio audience and a Showcase Showdown, I leaped forward to take my spin. And then cracked my leg against a display case, nearly knocking it over and giving myself a nasty bruise. Mollie had a great time telling people exactly how I got that bruise for the rest of my visit.

Anyway, I'd been to Monday night football at this bar several times. My station broadcasts a talk show from there. Never won anything. Last night, while I was busy bitching about how I never win anything, they called my number. I jumped into the air and bellowed, "YES!"

I picked envelope #4. An electronic dartboard. Hell yeah.

The other two guys won prizes, too. M.G. got an Oreo/coffee mug gift pack. They scarfed down the cookies, and I talked him into giving me a mug.

Jason won the best thing, though. (Besides my dartboard, of course.) He got a set of Jim Beam sauces - barbecue, hot sauce, and... ummm... I can't remember what else. The box of sauces became the scapegoat for the rest of the night. Anytime either of us were picked on by the others, we'd hug the box and talk about how Jim Beam was our only friend, the only one who understands us.

Ummm... yeah. Did I say a FEW beers? Right.