Damn! As punishment for drinking too much last night, I forced myself to listen to "Bob Seger's Greatest Hits"--one of the inexplicable CDs in my collection--on the way to work this morning. Bonus: there were two accidents I had to pass, so traffic was extra-slow, allowing ample time to revel in Bob's soulful wailing. It was excruciating, and made me think back to high school, where every burn-out loner wrote "Turn the page........." or "It's the famous final scene......." under their yearbook picture, as if they were commemorating not their graduation, but a dramatic exit from a scene of monumental heroism, a disappearance into the sunset, that left stunned townsfolk milling about the square asking "Who WAS that masked man?" Wooooo-hoooo! It was Joe Sweeney! Master of shop class!

Anyway, as terrible as it was to listen to Bob Seger, I am not certain that it was adequate punishment for the horror of last night at Pasqual's. The lovely Tahmi and Barbara Ann were there when I arrived, surrounded by strange and attentive guys, one of whom gave me the insta-creeps, not least for the giant Harley logo tattooed on his lower back. As time progressed, more people arrived to celebrate Candace's birthday, and the "one glass of wine" I had announced I would stay for, stretched to "seventeen bottles of wine," with the strange yet attentive guys apparently picking up the tab. (Woo-hoo! Thank you! But no, I'm still not going to make out with you.)

So, all in all, it was fun, with tons of people, and bizarre conversations with strangers, and Tahmi and I sang "I Enjoy Being a Girl" at the bar, and the only horror came in much later, like this morning, when I realized that once again, I had had too much to drink and decided it was a good idea to counsel total strangers about changes they should make in their lives. I don't know where this impulse comes from, but someone really needs to intervene. I talked for a long while to this odd, middle-aged guy who introduced himself as the owner of a winery (not true, incidentally) and talked at length about the "billionaires" he knows who accept him even though he's not one of them. "I'm just a bean-counter," he told me, and I nodded. He paused, and repeated himself. I nodded again. "Do you know what a bean-counter is?" he asked. [eye roll] Yes, idiot, everyone knows what a bean-counter is. Anyway, his pretention was getting on my nerves, but did I ignore him until he left? No, of course not! I used my irritation to introduce this hapless stranger to Violet's Free Life Advice Clinic! I found his continued comments about money tiresome and desperate, and I was kind enough to tell him that, albeit in slightly different words. I advised him to meditate and, I don't know, go on a journey of self-discovery, or something. Like, all of a sudden I am Pancho Villa, rejecting the trappings of the bourgeoisie and yelling "Viva la Revolucion!" or some crap like that. It was totally ludicrous, and the most ludicrous thing was that he appeared to be absorbing what I was saying. The whole time, the best thing was I could overhear Tahmi and Barbara Ann talking about how "hot" I am, and how guys love me. (Not true, incidentally, but it was very entertaining. I love my friends.)

So, the fake wine guy was but one of the many odd and time-consuming characters I encountered last night, and the fact that I didn't ignore them and go about my business, or just talk to my friends, totally irritates me. Hence the Seger Punishment.

Star of the day. . .Joe Henry