So, a friend of mine who works with me at the office is getting married in a few weeks and his buds got together and planned a marathon bachelor party event. It started with paintball this morning, moved on to lunch at Hooters, and will be followed up with the normal bar-crawl and tittie-bar debauchery.

As an indication of my advancing age and general dereliction, I eagerly signed on for the paintball but bowed out of the boob-hunt (I grow old... I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled).

So we assembled at about 10 this morning at the paintabll field and set about our friendly competition. What a workout: we moved onto different fields, split into teams, and then fired crazily at each other until we'd all been hit. Skill and tactics? We had none. And them little paintballs hurt like hell when they hit you in the small of the back. Or on the unprotected part of your head. In a few hours we were soaked with sweat, paint, and mud. I gotta do that again sometime (though maybe I'll pick a day when the temperature is in the 60s instead of the upper 80s).

The bruises and welts I felt right away; the aches and pains will show in force tomorrow.

Anyway, I got home just now and put in the A/C with the help of Guido and Julio. Alane has apparently fled -- fearing that the A/C would never be installed. So for now, there is quiet. Just the hum of Con Ed, juicing up this month's bill.

I need a shower -- my hair is still caked with paint.