Tonight I went out with my good bud Andy to a free artsy-fartsy thing with free vodka drinks. The event was at this huge converted warehouse with some brilliant design ideas which I'm going to integrate into my next major loft renovation. They had these multi-level track wall systems that were cheap, elegant, and light weight. I'm still amazed because I'm still buzzed. We had a few drinks and staggered off to the Cowgirls Hall of Fame for gravy. I've been a healthy, vegan'ish person for nearly a month, and I craved fat so much I would have gnawed on a hoof.
So we're at the Hall of Fame, which is almost as good as the Chinese food restaurant's take on Christmas. Chicken fried steak should not cost 16 bucks. While waiting for our table, we have another drink, which presents me with the NYC evolutionary question. All New York restaurants have their toilets in the basement, usually down an incredibly rickety, steep, narrow stairwell. Who could have designed this system, except for Darwin? The people who have full bladders are inevitably those who have had the most alcohol. So the inebriated individual is presented with the challenge of negotiating a life threatening, neck snapping passage of death in order to simply pee. Whenever I've had a few drinks, I always expect some nature show announcer to be at the bottom narrating that "this human male has run the dangerous urinal gamut of survival, thus ensuring adequate liver size in the future of the species. " It's a shame I'm not going to reproduce.