I had to chastise a 13 year old boy yesterday night as he had no freakin' clue how to make a scotch & soda - nor a good one. What I told him, pointedly, and in a nutshell: 1. o youngster, there is a huge difference between soda and tonic. Get the fuck away from my scotch with that tonic or I'll karate chop you. 2. sonny boy, when making a scotch & soda remember to add scotch.
The party was fun, even when an uninvited person (guest of a co-worker) was rubbing my leg until I gave him a look which can wither healthy leaves off of trees, burble paint off of walls. He knocked it off and no further near-need for karate chops ensued.
Later we all streamed out of the party and into a series of bars and clubs, including the one where a dj pal handed me a copy of his cd - it's on now, adding a nice even techno vibe.
At some point, realizing I hadn't had enough food for "dinner," I stopped in a somewhat reliable pizza joint and cavorted with the two employees - one pregnant and non-working (lots of sitting on counter) and the other a dough-tossing teen always covered with flour. I looked up and they had not changed my menu embellishment: the (apparently barely-literate) owner hand-printed their menu and their family pack looked as if it cost $2068 rather than what it must be ($20.68). So I was searching for a sharpie (I was with five other people = power in numbers) and then the hardworking teen said here's a black one, a nice stinky fat marker. So I reached up and added the words solid gold to family pack and made it officially $2,068.00. Last night the pair of pizza employees said We like you better when you're not here with your posse.