No, I'm Not 25 Anymore

So there's good news and bad news to report from my weekend.

The good news is that San Francisco continues to offer countless opportunities for fun. After work on Friday, I met my friend Kurt at a Union Square wine bar in advance of the Paula West show at the Rrazz Room. A cocktail for me and two glasses of wine and a snack for him later, we were on our way to watch Ms. West perform. She was, as always, amazing; singing standard jazz tunes alongside (good) cabaret arrangements of 60's folk/pop songs such as "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and "For No One."

So good.

After Paula, I bid Kurt goodbye and went to the Big Umbrella art studio where another friend, Missy, has become an artist in residence. I took in the art and ran into a guy I recognized from that live Dating Game show I went to back in January. He had been the one and only clever "bachelor" in that game (the others were very scary), and I told him so as we started chatting. Somehow I ended up going to my new favorite bar, Madrone, with said Bachelor and his group of friends. I didn't stay at Madrone long, though. I just passed enough time to have a Chimay and a spin on the dance floor. After that, I was off to put myself to bed.

Now here's the bad news. Even though I was home by 12:30 a.m., the three strong cocktails, two cups of cheap art studio wine and one Chimay I'd imbibed over the course of Friday evening did a complete and total number on me. Back in the day I could have consumed that much alcohol over six hours without issue, but... No, I'm not 25 anymore.

So I spent most of Saturday hungover.

Now, that didn't stop me from meeting Maya and Andrey at the Mint for a little Saturday afternoon karaoke, but I was somewhat the worse for wear. I did manage to take to the stage and belt out "Somewhere Only We Know" and "Kids In America," anyway, though. However, it was an early evening for me. I was home by 8 p.m. and in bed and asleep by 11. On a Saturday night. The twentysomething partier in me was a little horrified, but the nearly 40-year old adult in me was quite content. Especially after that Friday night.

The other bit of bad news this weekend is that I was supposed to sing at an open mic this afternoon, but my guitarist came down with a sinus infection this morning and is in no shape to play. Given that I play no instruments myself and don't have good enough pitch to sing five songs a capella, I stayed home and waded through receipts and did preparation for my upcoming appointment with my tax guy instead. But that's fun, too, right?

I'm making up for the lost open mic by meeting Carla for a Sunday night cocktail in about an hour, but that's not quite the same as singing. My guitarist and I have even worked out some "new" material. Well, it will be coming to an open mic near you (if you're in San Francisco) soon. Soon, my friends.