In which I abandon "In Which"...

Because I'm tired of it.

Great night Saturday. At Bob's insistence I hit the Railway Club on the last drinking day before St. Paddy's Day to enjoy the Dreadnaughts, a kickass and kinetic Celtic punk band I should have found long ago. I doubt we many revelers left the club before 2, and then only after some forays into a merciless mosh pit (which pummeled poor Eva's nose) and a few rounds of high-impact hugging. After a brief stopover at my apartment, so that my compatriots could devour the expensive scotch I'm unlikely to ever touch myself, we took an odd 4AM trip to Hamburger Mary's. It seems ill-advised at the time, but somehow I woke up feeling absolutely pristine 3 hours later. Perhaps a wee-hours greaseburger is a fine hangover preventative - I'll test this further in future, since I'm a block away from that reliably mediocre kitchen.

There's much afoot for tomorrow. I hope you'll wish me the courage I need to do what must be done, the dignity to do it well, and the sheer anarchic atavism required to enjoy it from start to finish.

Tomorrow will be a very good day.