"You have crossed the border from lubricated to morose." Am on a Mad Men binge, and how true, and how often I see that. Just yesterday, in fact. Bade a fond farewell to a good friend who was in town visiting, and caught up with some old friends who I haven't really spent much time with in months. Got corralled and convinced to go to a house party, and proceeded to witness much drinking, which wasn't mine (do I hear the peanut gallery crying out 'bullshit'? It's admittedly rare, but true). As the party came to a close, we continued to A's apartment complex, with four people bundled in the back seat of the car, one of whom was wearing only a pair of gloriously green swimming shorts, a straw hat, and sandals. I think some of the passengers would've preferred that he was more appropriately attired, and I was very glad I was in the front seat.

Anyway the night proceeded with us just talking about nothing significant, sipping whisky, and drunkenly singing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' and 'I Don't Feel Like Dancing', and me getting spun around in my friend's living room, against my will, by a drunk and flaming Finn. The poor guy definitely hit the point of moroseness and sentimentality in the previous evening, and seemed to be somewhat sheepish by the prospect of waking up on the living room floor, somewhat less than fully decked out in apparel, seeing me as I tried to leave quietly. Can't say it was a regular Saturday/Sunday morning for me, but hey, we've all got our moments.