It’s Friday Night

And I’ve got the drink on me. Clearly, it’s time to make long distance phone calls, and send drunken e-mails to random women on the Interweb.

Or (and stay with me here) I could keep drinking, until I find my happy place. And judging from the contents of my refrigerator, that location is about 96 ounces away, unless I go the agave route.

Maybe phone calls are a good idea after all.