First, we went to a bar named Red Dog I think. This brings to mind images of those bright red stadium hot dogs, you do NOT want to eat. Last year Chris made the mistake of having one while we were golfing. "At Hole #9 it was trying to come out – alien style!" Still, the mob had spoken. At first it wasn’t too bad – music not too loud, not too crowded, not too smoky. Amazingly enough, the male-female ratio was good as well (seems Raleigh is actually the worst city to live in outside of military towns and remote technical schools). Of course as the night went on, more noise, men and smoke moved in, but it was tolerable. 

Three other things kept picking up as well: the dancing fever, the amount of alcohol consumed, and sweat. In reverse order, there was a lot of sweat. One person in our group accounted for approximately 85% of all the sweat in the place I think (he admitted as much, and is a great guy). But the dance floor (read: strangely lit closet) was small and hot so it’s excusable. Not being a drinker, I don’t know much about alcohol. I do think maybe 5 of the ‘fishbowl’ drinks is too many. Luckily he has friends. Friends who help him drink and keep parts of these away from him. I still think he managed to get 4 of them down by himself. But by the time the fish were swimming in his head, we had already lost 2 folks. One to the fish earlier (not fully cooked) and one to the general illness of food, overheating and alcohol. Cabs were hailed.

Most were fun to watch this drunk. Liz had her groove on and even Chris was drunk enough to dance. Apparently Dalph Lungren (sp?) was in the house and all the girls were happy about this. Sheri and our unnamed girl were dancing hard, and returned with a strange story about Caitlin’s dance partner. We’ll call him Beavis. Because at one point I heard, "Yeah, is that the guy that had his foot up on the wall, grinding?" If you don’t recall, this is the ‘Beavis Grind’, ie, when he’s on the couch - not to be confused with the ‘Butthead Spank’, or the ‘Beavis high kick’. 

Eventually all us old folks had had enough and went home. The shuttling ensued. There was supposed to be some drunken strip Jenga, with customized blocks, but this never got underway. This is good, because Chris chimed in with, "Well, I’m at a disadvantage, seeing as how I didn’t bring any socks or underwear." Thanks for playing ‘Too Much Information’. But I feel bad for him because I think he still has a line burn across his back where he could not reach, that looks like a faded eagle tattoo.