Recently, in a fit of unbridled masocism, I decided to call all of my credit cards, get the balances, and find out just how deep in the hole I am.

Shortly thereafter, I decided that I should probably start eating nothing but peanut butter sandwiches and drinking the free coffee and tea they give us at my office.

I want to go to London with my team. But in order to do that, I'm going to have to live a hermit's life between now and then. No movies or plays, no new clothes, no nights out with the boys, none of the simple pleasures that keep me from mixing up a shaker of Drano martinis.

Lovely.

The only saving grace would be a really big tax return. Keep your fingers crossed. With any luck, I'll figure out a way to deduct porn and alcohol.