Drunken Ruminations

Week in Review

I am beyond exhausted from four days worth of poor sleep. But hey, who needs sleep when you've had an awesome week? Let's review:

Monday - Dinner at the Squealing Pig, drinks at the Savant Project

Tuesday - cupcake at Sweet + beers at The Pig .

Wednesday - covered various tea-bagging activities on the Common.

Thursday - News banquet.

Friday - Last day at The Dig (for now), the South End Buttery (more on that to come), drunken Tomb, Cambridge 1, Jillian's, and a broken up house party in Allston

Saturday - Lunching, magazine-buying binge, Grey Gardens + party with Liz and Eric

Sunday - Valentino (!!!! More to come on that!), Brookline Booksmith, Paris Creperie.

And now, some rest.

Come on Feel the Wine

Finals stress bogging you down?

Wine Riot has you covered. Fork over $45 for one of two four-hour long wine tasting sessions, featuring more than 250 kinds of delicious vino.

The wine-tasting spectacular will also have a sweet photo booth (check out the people at left), crash courses in wine, and DJs Die Young and RedFoxxworth.

As if that wasn't enough, the riot is sponsored by the Second Glass and my own (if I may call it that) Weekly Dig. So you're bound to run into some painfully cool (and hopefully drunk) hipsters.

What a day for drinking

There's something to be said for day time drinking:  that it's totally awesome, mostly.

Boston, in all its splendor, offers plenty of places to be a lush during the day. The Otherside Cafe, located on the grosser side of Newbury Street, is one of them.

It's the kind of place writers of movies about college dream of:  dark, impossibly cool and with plenty of writing in the bathroom.

But Otherside also boasts yummy (if expensive) grub and a substantial beer list. Drink it up.

You know how some girls are

So as I sit here not paying attention to my American Presidency class due to a massive hangover - accumulated last night with these handsome fellows - I recall my favorite Old 97's song, Barrier Reef.

The Empty Bottle was half empty, tide was low, and I was thirsty.
Saw her sitting at the bar, you know how some girls are,
Always making eyes, well she wasn't making eyes.

So I sidled up beside her, settled down and shouted, "Hi there."
"My name's Stewart Ransom Miller, I'm a serial lady-killer."
She said, "I'm already dead," that's exactly what she said.

I should hope that if anyone attempt to use the line "I'm a serial lady killer" on me, I'll be clever enough to say that I'm already dead.

Cowboy Joe drinks here

Should you ever find yourself in Laramie, WY, I urge, nay, INSIST you visit the Buckhorn Bar. It truly is one of the last great pioneer town bars.

My mother, a University of Wyoming graduate, no less, informs me that in the 1970s, there existed something called the "Buckhorn Roll," which basically consisted of getting hammered and throwing yourself down a flight of wooden stairs. There seems to be no explanation for this.

 It's a neat, old, bar that actually has historic landmark status, real bullet holes in the bar, and dead animal heads to remind you that you are, you know, in the Wild West.