I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping.

We're trying out new things. No 15 minute lines in O'Malleys, no 20 minute waits for one drink at AC's, absolutely no Silver Dollar. Last night's new thing we tried out was Blind Tiger. Having a reputation for not accommodating under-agers, we haven't been. But we're trying new things. So let's call Black Cab, let's take a little ride down to Broad St., and let's enjoy our Saturday night. (The rallying cry of a group of 20-somethings looking for a good drink isn't that inspiring seeing it written out...)

So we head in and, of course, La gets hassled about her id. No big deal, though, because we're going to enjoy our new thing. And we do.

Bar tender at Blind Tiger (Not the one wearing the Terps shirt, but yeah to him! Sorry, Heels.) totally stole my sister's best idea ever. I think I was in the 8th or 9th grade when it happened. A phone call and a genius plan.

"I'm going to make W.W.M.P.G.D? shirts and wear them around."

"What?"

"What would Mark Paul Gosselaar do?"

I know, it's the best idea ever. And I told Caroline that. And I'll tell her again. But there's no need. She knows.

So we go up to the bar and the bartender has a shirt with a picture of the Zack Attack and it says "W.W.Z.M.D?" Wait. What?! Probably, some time long ago, this bartender made out with my sister. Being drunk, she got loose lips that sunk her ship and told him all about her genius idea. And he stole it. But his plethora of "Saved By The Bell" trivia knowledge was impressive. La just suggested we come up with an insanely trivial little tidbit of SBTB fandom and ask him next time we go. Like, "What was Mr. Belding's sister-in-law's dog's name?" Let me find the answer and then I'll tell you...

Anyway. We got free drinks! Some girls don't appreciate free drinks. La and I do. Partly because we usually act too goofy for people to want to buy us drinks and partly because we're both broke as a joke. It's not even like we needed free drinks, though, because they were having a special, Newcastle for $2.50. WHO DOES THAT? This is why Blind Tiger is my favorite new bar.

On a separate note, in an attempt to save a shred of dignity and pride, I'm trying not to drunk text people who don't appreciate being drunk texted. To many people, this would be easy. To me, it is not. I have a problem. It's called not having a shred of dignity or pride. No, really. It's just that I'm insane.

So, last night I diverted my attention to people who I thought would appreciate my drunk texts. Namely, my dad. Now before I go too far down this road, I should note that I was not at any point last night fall-down, black-out, mumble-bumble drunk. I was actually a normal, healthy amount intoxicated. The kind of drunk that makes you more likely to talk to a stranger, you know. I should also note that while it was 1:45 when I texted my father, he lives in Washington where the time was 10:45. I'm sure he was awake and watching the SciFi network, so I do not feel bad.

Now just what prompts somebody to send their father a text at 1:45 in the morning? Doug. Our old neighbor in Annapolis. There was somebody in the bar that looked just like him. Not having one of those faces that everybody else has, I thought this was notable. So I texted my dad.

"Doug's twin is in the bar!"

His response:

"You should go talk to him, it might be him."

Thanks, Dad! This pretty much makes my life. I wasn't expecting any kind of response because my father is intelligent and knows that at 1:45 am when I'm at a bar I'm not sending him a 100% sober text message. But I got one. Not only did I get one, but I got one telling me to go talk to some random strange man in the bar! I love my dad, he's my hero.

La and I are opening a bar. It's going to be called Dragon Tails.

The end.