Based on the empirical evidence I have collected over the last few weeks of glorious warm weather, I have formulated this hypothesis:
Going out drinking on weeknights is good for me.
Last night I stopped by this very comfy gay bar to congratulate Rob on his new book and watch the hoardes throng for his John Hancock. Since it's a work-week night and I work hard to keep up appearances as a responsible, hard-working yuppie, I figured I'd stop in, say my congratulations, meet this guy, have one drink and leave.
Well, Horshack didn't show, but everyone else certainly did, and since tomorrow's payday, I opened a tab and attempted to drink everyone under the table. I think I would have done it if my conscience hadn't kicked me in the ass at about 9:30 and dragged me out of there. (Or was that Frank?)
12-oz glass of Guiness Stout. Bomb a shot of Irish Cream in that daddy and chug. Doesn't taste good, but sure feeeeels good. Maybe you have to be Irish. Or just plain nuts.
Lots of hugs and snuggles from my polygamous blog hubby, and meeting his uber-sweet boyfriend. A happy couple is a beautiful thing.
Along the same lines, getting to meet this darling man's darling other half
Drunk-Dialing Zenchick only to realize nobody else knows the words. He valiantly played along.
Meeting a Rugby player with a smooooth English Accent. (How does he stand it?)
Listening to Rob slur his thanks to us all for coming. We wouldn't have missed it, buddy! The radiance in his face lit up the bar. Best wishes, and many bestsellers to come. Inspires a person to write more.
And, as I was saying before, after all this, I made the early train this AM. Strolled into my cubicle at 8:07. Clearly I am onto something here. Booze + Less Sleep = Increased Morning Time Efficiency and Productivity (IMTEP).
I should apply for government funding to test my hypothesis. All those bar tabs are going to add up. Or maybe I could get a sponsor.