Nick at Nite Saved My Life

I discovered why the vapid sitcom Full House ran for 8 years while I was staying at Luke's House Saturday Night. While everyone was sleeping, I was in the living room looking for comfort from cable television. I watched Full House and loved every minute of it because IT REQUIRES NO THINKING! Two married couples and a single bachelor choosing to live together in one Bay area house with five children makes perfect sense at five in the morning.

Breakfast at Brockport Diner. Kittens at Lollypop Farm. (Cats are the Devil's spawn). And because we feel we don't eat enough, and because Luke feels like he doesn't feed me enough, and because we don't eat there enough, Luke took me to Golden Port. When I die, I want to be wrapped in rice paper nestled in a bed of rice noodles, my head resting on a pile of fresh basil leaves.

Later that night, I was pelted by bricks of loneliness. Sean Martell took me to the Elmwood Inn where we drank a pitcher of Yeung Ling (highly recommended), took a kamikaze shot with a tequila sunrise chaser. In our drunkeness, we flung plastic darts at a wall that seemed to be made of teflon. Or maybe we just suck at darts. Oh, and vodka. We had more vodka. Why does drinking alcohol at two in the morning seem like such a great idea when work begins at 7am?

Thanks Luke. Thanks Sean. You two are much better than Nick at Nite.