Sugar

Ah, free drink tickets. And the surprising use of the cab chit. And random encounter with age-old assistants, and their stories of plumber husbands and their 7 and 2 year olds questioning, while the other white jacketed lady brings it back - standup comedian style - to the original childish question, why? Heh. The gray dress appearing interesting after shunning the cab until the dropping of the boyfriend reference, as was our lady of the no bread for lent until the matter of a daughter, inevitably, is mentioned. Makes you wonder how to escape, even as you miss the comfort, and lack the staying power.

Yet, in all, a more promising night than was forecast, you know. Mocking of any attempt at the Louis treize cocktail, due to the honour you have had in prior occasion to drink it. And further St. Patty's practice with the Guinness, of course.

From smashed plates accidentally at Cut to the SBTS to the pale man's speech citing William Arthur Ward, unknown author of inspirational maxims, to the grand expectation of New York City following the approval. It seems a stretch too far to get her back over from the isle of ice, given the prices, alas. But Homi will be in town, so perhaps the Bulls can be planned in any event, and I like the idea of boarding another flight (finally) before the month is out, particularly at another's expense. It's no derby, but it must do.

I'm sure that guy tonight played A.J.'s once upon a time, perhaps even one night when you were there. And so there was a sense, sitting there tonight amidst the mini-burgers, that we have both grown old...