...someone at the Ministry of Fucking Up let incarnate turn 25 and, as such, we were obliged to celebrate.

The destination: Yankee friggin' Doodle's on the Promenade.

I drove. Fast. Because I could.

It was a strange bunch, Dennis, Holly, Williams, Thea, Rico, Dan, Shanti, and some guy I didn't know...but it was all good. There was conversation and overpriced (but tasty) food; the alcohol and dessert flowed. I'll say this for the joint; their buffalo wings are bigger than at Hooter's. WAY bigger. The last of American Idol was on the screen, along with baseball games that were not Dodgers' games, so I couldn't care. Additionally, we were positioned in such a fashion that there was no way for me to play bar trivia....which kinda sucked 'cause I totally dig bar trivia. Still, it was all good. After, we all dashed to The Borders across the street like crazed lemmings.

After, we broke.

I drove back. Really fast. Because I could.

What have I learned?

That my life lacks lemonade.