In which, bit by bit, our hero continues to grow up.

In which, bit by bit, our hero continues to grow up.

Wow, I love Liar's Club but I found myself there three days, almost in a row, last week, and that was a bit too much. The music was great, especially Kevin Tihista's hit-filled Saturday set that had more people on the dancefloor than at the bar (which is really one of the highest compliments a DJ can get). As often seems to happen when Photogal's out of town, there was a lull in the usual flood of great shows, so Liar's became our default option.

The evenings out this weekend also instilled the need in me to reclaim two half-forgotten resolutions. When the party's over it's time to go home, and I need to work on keeping my drunken trap shut instead of letting the roiling undercurrent carry me away.

For instance, Friday night I was out with one of my best friends, and while the ladies that were accompanying him were at times painful to listen to, I managed to keep my comments to myself. Usually in that situation I would, as my friend describes it, "cut them to pieces without them even knowing it," but since I knew he was trying to ingratiate himself with one of the young ladies I managed to control myself and keep my responses brief and polite. On top of it, I managed to get out of the bar long before the lights came up and found myself in front of my couch, taking in Mean Girls, at an hour even Photogal would approve of. And at no time was I tempted to put a pizza in the oven so I could fall asleep while it was cooking. All in all a 100% successful evening!

Saturday started off promisingly, with Spider-Man 3 first thing in the morning (avoid the kids and crowds!), some housework in the afternoon and a trip to the gym in the early evening. I then hooked up with my DJ crew, who were on a completely different level that I since they had been celebrating The Derby / Cinco de Mayo since noon. Again we ended up at Liar's only this time a certain young man who has aroused my ire in the past for his ungentlemanly attitudes towards certain young ladies caused me to raise my temper. One of the wiser and more sage members of my own party was able to convince me that it would be in no one's best interests for me to escalate my verbal jabs into physical ones, a number of us left to have some drinks on a friend's front stoop, where I wound up my evening and then headed home.

There is a lesson here. And it is one that only works comparatively, but relies on Photogal being out of town for it to be useful under examination. In the past, on a weekend she was gone, I would usually wake up Sunday full of regret for staying out until 5am / saying unbelievably stupid and mean things / drinking too much / blacking out / what-have-you. This time I woke up full of regret merely because I said a few aggressive things to one person. I think this means I'm growing up. I still feel bad about doing dumb things, but at least those things are no longer massively dumb, right?

And I've said this before but it really only becomes more and more true as time passes; I have a lot more fun when I drink less and go home earlier. This weekend proved that yet again, since in this case two drinks and an hour made all the difference between the two evenings.

Enough of this introspection. Here's a tune to get you revved up for a new week.

MP3: The Deadstring Brothers "Sacred Heart"