There is a bump on my forehead the size of a golf ball and I have no idea how it got there. I think perhaps it has something to do with last night, when, after spending two nights in a row this week alone at home watching the Oprah 20th anniversary DVDs, eating ice cream, petting the cat, and, yes, crying (judge me after you watch that dear little 11-year-old poet boy with muscular dystrophy and a desire for world peace), I decided to give up on the whole virtue thing and hang out after work, at work, with my coworker. We essentially re-tasted every wine we pour by the glass, in full glass proportions. I didn't really learn anything about the wine, but I definitely learned that a chicken salad is not a sufficient alcohol absorber. Needless to say, my head hurts, and I will be having sparkling water after work tonight in preparation for tomorrow's outing to Hooters for a friend's early retirement party (she's giving up on the ol' NYC and moving to Miami). Pictures to come.
And for the gossip mongers, Amber Tamblyn, of Joan of Arcadia and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants fame, totally came into my restaurant last night after the Anna Sui runway show, and was also totally wasted. Or just totally annoying. She's a "water with lemon" person. Stay tuned for a 5,000 word manifesto on the special place in hell reserved for "water with lemon" people.

[Posing for a photo mere hours before annoying Gina at her place of employment]