INSOMNIAAA

leaving the bar early, cold sober, coming home "to sleep" but really just to watch PBS 'till 5 a.m. (or later).

mmm.... stiegl.

Mama Kass finally settled down and got herself a job.

Well, and by "settled down," I mean I now get to drink Jager out of the asses of pinatas, serve six-litre pints of Honey Brown in vases still stamped with Home Sense tags, and sell beers and bratwursts I'll never be able to pronounce. And, uh, get paid too.

Meet my new home, weeknights, weekends, days―whatever. 'Cause if it all goes as planned, well, by the end―I won't really know the difference.

(If you're in town this weekend, drop by. It's disco pirate party time. It's a bar, duh. But friends get a 25% discount.

...and yes, there will be hot tubs.)

the best nights are...

the kind when you need a shower before you go to bed.

boo, hiss.

This is me, "out".

This is me, learning Cobrasnake parties aren't all their cracked up to be (that is, unless you're cracked out. and in retrospect that probably explains the good time had by many hipster attendees)... 

But it WAS a learning experience (see mom and dad!)—a party's no fun without the music. And now I remember why I like all this "going out" in the first place—it's the rock 'n roll, the beats, the funky-good feel that starts with a toe tap 'till it reaches the top. 

And since summertime=concert time, and shows+friends+drinks=good times, if I did my math correctly that means we get good times times two. And math WAS my best subject, after all...