Goodbye, Hello. Hello, Goodbye.

I can't believe we've made it to April and I've only been to Cracklantic City one time this year for all of about an hour. Part of me wants to say "I've been busy," but the more rational part of me knows that's just an excuse. What can I say? If AC were about 30 to 45 minutes closer to New York, I'd probably be down there three weekends a month and people would be calling 1-800-GAMBLER on my behalf.

I've even missed out on a bunch of home games. Last night was the Dawn Summers "How Many More Cards Do I Get? I Call" Invitational at Wall Street Poker. Family obligations prevented me from attending, and so another opportunity to play live (and stack Dawn with my mind) passed by the boards.

All that is going to change real soon, however...

In other news, last night was the final night for an old friend of mine: Magnetic Field, a pretty solid bar in my neighborhood that also happens to be the closest bar to my house. CK and I were there Friday night for a secret performance by indie rock legends Yo La Tengo, but last night was the official "There's No Tomorrow" party. After five years the owners were calling it quits and closing the bar. All the drinks were priced at $2 because all the booze had to be drunk.

And drink it we did.

I started out with a Makers and water, the drink of choice of Brooklyn's own Ugarles. He left shortly thereafter -- something about a pregnant wife waiting for him at home. Sounds like a whipped man to me. In any event, CK called on her way home from the Dawn Summers Invitational and I convinced her to come to the bar. After hanging up the phone, my friend Howard and I began our tour of Scotland's finest whiskeys. Laphroaig, still my favorite, but Talisker will do in a pinch.

Things started getting hazy at that point, as they inevitably do on any good bender. I do remember that this girl was at the bar. She was just as drunk as last time and just as amorous. In spite of her obvious intoxication (or maybe because of it) she was fairly attractive. Her amorous advances would therefore not have been much of a problem if only: (a) I did not have a girlfriend; and/or (b) said girlfriend was not on her way to the same bar.

You can imagine the reaction when said girlfriend arrived just after midnight and the drunken amorous girl was draped all over me. With her hand down my pants. Now in my own defense, I did not "do" anything inappropriate. But I didn't really discourage the lass either. After disentangling myself from her, CK and I went outside and commenced a rather heated "discussion" (more like lots of yelling from one side and lots of trying to be anywhere but there from the other). It ended with her deciding that an appropriate penance would be for me to display my boneheadedness to the world by writing it up.

So here we are. I still think she's being a bit unreasonable so I decided I'd offer up my own moral to the whole sordid mess. The moral is: if you're going to get drunk and let girls put their hands down your pants, don't invite your significant other out to watch it. Unless she gets off on that sort of thing. Then go whole hog.

(Ok, so maybe this isn't one of my better efforts. Check out this, this or this for something a little stronger.)