Sing A Song Of Six Peace

Common sense dictates that I should not blog about this.

As I have just gone through four Guinness', a Green Russian, and a Kamikaze, common sense went out the window about a half-hour ago.

Suffice to say, I just spent a most pleasant evening with several of my classmates at a sports bar here in the sunny (OK, it was after dark) climes of Southern California. Each was treated to that which happens to Bob when he has had a few too many drinks.

MOTOR MOUTH.

Yes, 'tis true, dear readers, I CAN be quite talkative when alcohol has been consumed. Whether it being a positive influence or not hasn't been decided yet - it really depends on what THEY remember.

What I DO remember is that the bartendress - or should it be barmaid, I'm not quite sure - was wearing a garment which said, in a quite noticeable location, was:
That it might have been laundered quite a few times is not of much importance, but apparently, from what my partners in crime said, it once said:
This was the first time - in a great many years, if not decades - that I had spent time in a real bar with that devil-may-care attitude that no one can come get me, as I was "stewed to the gills" in inebriation. Thankfully I was a short WALK from the bar to the hotel. One need not wonder what the outcome would have been had I driven to said drinking establishment.

Let's not go there.

But what was the most sobering thought was that this would likely be the last time, save for our final class tomorrow, that I would ever see these fine people again.

Pence to you all.