Alcohol

I've located my new favorite place to drink (well, other than in my apartment, alone, in the dark. Kidding! Totally kidding. Don't schedule the intervention. Yet.)

Moe's Bar is in Fort Greene. You've got to love a place that serves 'Duff' beer and plays weird vampire movies (complete with closed captioning) on a large screen in the back room. Last night, DK and I were sucked in by the (non)plot of the movie and the drink specials, and stayed much later than we had planned.

(Tangent. I think we had a long conversation about college basketball in which he passed the most important test: not being able to devise a scenario in which he would root for Duke to win a basketball game, despite their opponent. Even when given the choice between a team comprised of evil superpowers, like Hitler, Mussolini, and George Bush versus The Blue Devils, he opted for the Axis of Evil. I believe we were also engaged in some drunken "holdin' hands and makin' plans" by the end of the night. It's quite possible that we'll be attending the Final Four, wherever it's being held this year.)

The downside of having a fun night out is clearly evident the following morning when you're running around Brooklyn, preparing for your weekly visit to the school where you facilitate your violence prevention program, and your lack of sleep/hangover takes the peculiar form of hyperactivity and over-friendliness so that you somehow find yourself lugging around 15 Subway sandwiches and 3 bottles of soda but still greeting everyone you pass on the street with a wide smile and a cheery "Good morning!", like Miss Mary Fucking Sunshine.