Last night was Sandy's birthday. We had dinner at Benihana and then drank and sang at the Crescent, a karaoke bar on Capitol Hill.

Today RO and Sandy are both hung over.

RO was exceptionally drunk. He sang several songs. He danced wildly. Then at last call, he just left without saying good bye to anyone. When I caught up to him, he was linked arm in arm with two strangers who were walking him up the hill.

The next morning RO realized that he hadn't said good bye to anyone. He said that he was too drunk to think. He knew he had to leave, so he did.

Matt said that Sandy had puked in the car on the ride home. Sandy spent most of the night worshiping the porcelain god

How do Matt and I feel? Fine! We limited our selves to three drinks. Matt and I are both over six feet and two hundred pounds-- three drinks is nothing.

The fun thing about not being hung over after a night out is that it feels good to torment those who are. By the time you reach mid life, you should know your alcohol tolerance and either not drink that much, or not need to work the next day. If you can't manage that, then you are fair game. You need to be taught a life lesson.

Hmmm. I'm getting the eurge to crank up Iron Maden on the stereo. Gotta go!