So tonight, Incarnate and I hit Clockwork Orange to get our groove on.

We got down, we got funky, we got some looks and some digits.

Then the D-Man showed up and it all went to hell. Thanks to a Jen-to-Amanda changeover, the music in the front room went from goth to industrial and then became something unrecognizable altogether. Next thing I know, they're closing the patio, it's last call, and half a pack of Camel Lights have been smoked.

We hit the road.

I get to practice driving, since The Minnesotan feels his BAC might be a little too high after 2 Heinekens, some Jaegermeister, and half a poorly-mixed Long Island (D-Man periodically having the other half).

Unfortunately, my driving skills aren't all they're cracked up to be and I ran over some pedestrians right before slamming into a semi. My right foot has been amputated, I have a concussion, and Incarnate is in a coma, probably never to recover.
















Just kidding.

Actually, I drove home, gave the man a Macho-sized (a la Del Taco) cup of ice-water and let him fly after making him walk a straight line and reciting the all the state capitols.

Of course, if it turns out he's died on the way home, I'm going to feel like a major asshole...