I finally dragged my sorry self home sometime around 4:45 this morning.  I didn’t get stinking drunk, having put that behind me in my college days (*).  Although I wonder what is it about champagne that immediately sends the effects of it rushing to your head?  I had two glasses at midnight and it took me about an hour to shake it off.  I quit drinking at that point, so by the time I left (somewhere around 4:15) I was stone sober.  But it doesn’t really seem to matter.  I still felt like something that crawled out of the bottom of a particularly slimy stock tank when I finally got up.  I guess I’m not cut out for this night owl business anymore.  Bleh.

However, a bit of breakfast (or maybe that was lunch), some Tylenol and some techno (hat-tip to Instapundit for this one) and I’m starting to return to the land of the living.

* A few weeks after I turned 21 I suffered a burst appendix (complete with a really nasty post-op infection).  After that, I lost my tolerance for alcohol, which had been quite formidable.  I doubt there’s a direct medical explanation, but that’s what happened.  Of course, I guess that makes me a cheap drunk now .