Remember when we used to pull on our size 4 Express "black pants," tuck our feet into uncomfortable shoes and freeze b/c we left our jackets in the car while we ran I.D. in hand to the club entrance?!? Gosh, we WERE all that and a can-a-beans fur sure! Those were the days of pressing the 34b cups up against the bar in attempt to get the bartenders attention (dah-it didn't work). I know you recall the nights of purchasing round after round of at-the-time-expensive cocktails and waking the next morning feeling like someone kicked your arse, stole all your money and pooped in your mouth (yes, some of this still happens). These were the nights of wearing matching bra and undies AND pre-parties AND after-parties. Then at some point you get old... Everyone you hang with procreates and the party moves from sticky dance floors to sunken living rooms. Instead of starting at 9 we meet at 5. Instead of bartenders we self retrieve beers from the garage fridge. AND instead of matching undergarments I make sure I don't have any holes in my wool socks. BUT, my friends, we haven't completely lost it yet. The consumption still happens and then we do this... (sorry it so dark-we keep it that way so you can't see the forming crows feet) Can't wait to see you tomorrow (without the beer goggles on).