Weekend Conclusions:
I am an asshole.

Let me tell you about being me. I get drunk, too drunk off of hard liqour. I do my best to avoid even mixed drinks. If is isn't beer or brandy old fashioned's with my mom. I tend to react poorly.

Saturday night I was dragged to a houseparty with a "raver" theme. A rave you say? no, just themed. The difference: while a rave, full of hopped up kids in shiny metalic vests dry-humping each other and engaging in massive group orgies sounds awesome; twenty underagers with 3 for $2 shots listening to really shitty electronica and not humping anything sucks. The host had braces. I was at a party with orthodontia. I am old.
After being there and having no one dance, Laney, being a reformed trick-ho of a dancer took over DJ duties, and started playing hip-hop. People started dancing, I started doing shots to make the pain of being the only one old enough to remember Punky Bruster go away, the party got better.

(Sidenote: the raver themed party playlist included: Barry White, Relient K and the entire second Taking Back Sunday cd, clearly these jackasses have no idea what it's like to puke off of three tabs of E and 4 shots of whiskey)

Eventually I got into an argument with one of their hosts, and Laney had to pull me away to stop my inquiry of "Silverstien? Are you serious? Do you even have a penis?"

We left, and I persisted to throw back a quick vodka cranberry then meet up with Emily, Heather and Heather's boyfriend at The Plaza. By the time I hit the bar, I was pretty drunk. I then proceeded to verbally accost the District 8 Alderman, privately compare his sexual prowess to Mike Verveer, District 4 Alderman.

The night gets kinda blurry after that. I remember some key things: when asked my opinion about a certian bar (Brothers) here in Madison I replied with "that bar is for douchebags and rapists," then agreed to a horsey-ride from a stranger to Brothers. Mid-way on my lone piggy-back ride to Brothers I ran into my co-author's twin sister- B Ditter. I dismounted and released my drunk friend back into the wild.

I followed the other Ditter to Real Chilli, ignored 5 phone calls from Heather, got fed candy, tried to hide the fruity deliciousness in Nick's chili-dog, got bored, stumbled off on my own.

These events count for a total of 25 minutes of my night. I started drinking at 10 and got home at 3 am. What I did and said inbetween will remain a mystery lost to the ages.