Comments on Hello, Hangover

I enjoyed the Spitfire drinks. Had the Maria Cantwell (margarita?) and the Pro Choice (martini?). When I got to the Dems parties, by the time I'd said hi to everyone, they had closed down all the bars!

I wore a nametag ... but didn't see a lot of people at the Spitfire I knew until I went back around midnight (we all went looking for real drinks).

But if you pass him on the streets he will give you a head-splitting yawn. Coffee up Frizzelle!

A nice touch at spitfire was the contrast between the increasingly dower Fox News talking heads right next to the giddy CNN folk.

Anything that causes Brit Hume to list at that despondent of an angle is good in my book.

Careful Frizzelle, your hangover may not actually be fading--you're just still drunk! That's the worst.

RARELY do I do a happy dance in two consecutive days. I mean, c'mon. For a happy dance to really mean anything, it has to be reserved for extra special occasions, not just everyday random happiness inducing commonalities.

I did a happy dance last night when Santorum went down to defeat (that feels soooo good to type). I managed to refrain from any further happy dances at the rest of the night's continuously happy news.

I did another happy dance today when I heard Rumsfeld is out! Please send him directly to the Hague for his no doubt impending war crimes trials.

RARELY do I do a happy dance in two consecutive days. I mean, c'mon. For a happy dance to really mean anything, it has to be reserved for extra special occasions, not just everyday random happiness inducing commonalities.

I did a happy dance last night when Santorum went down to defeat (that feels soooo good to type). I managed to refrain from any further happy dances at the rest of the night's continuously happy news.

I did another happy dance today when I heard Rumsfeld is out! Please send him directly to the Hague for his no doubt impending war crimes trials.

Wise words Hannah, wise words. I stayed away from the election themed concoctions last night, but the bourbon with beer backs, topped by a celebratory glass or three of champagne caught up to me at approximately 1:30pm today.

While ordering a drink at Spitfire last evening, with little aforethought, I told the young, hot guy next to me that he looked like "James Carville's love child." He took umbrage saying "I'm not that ugly..." I agreed, apologized and got a hug in return. Maybe I should have compared him to the young Yul Brynner. Being unsure of where to post this reflection, "Hello, Hangover" seemed appropriate. And now let's give all of the new "in" crowd a well-deserved 100-day honeymoon.