Saturday night

Hanging at Bull McCabe's last night with the class of '97 Sig Eps was much like hanging out at Rennies or Night Cap or Noah's with the class of '97 Sig Eps. There was drama. There was hooking up. There was attempts at hooking up. There was trash talking. There was drinking. And there was Dan Bianchi. It's always a party when Dan Bianchi shows up.

When I emerged from the bedroom this morning, the first thing The Roommate said was:

When I saw the pizza box on the floor and the potato chips thrown around, I had a pretty good idea of what shape you were in when you came home.

She can often guess how drunk I was the night before by the number of popcorn kernals on the floor, on top of the stove or in my chair. I also had to make a phone call to Rock Star this morning, explaining that I just didn't realize it was four in the morning when I decided to call him back. He explained that despite my drunk accusation, his one in the morning phone call to me was not a booty call. Well, not entirely.