OK, so I have a new favorite place in Boston: The Pour House, across from the Hynes. $4 burgers? 22 ounce Bass Ales for less than $5? Are you kidding me? This is no joke, and my liver can attest that. When you have 5 tall, frosty mugs of barley-and-hops goodness, and then decide you need to go to another bar to continue the merriment, well, you know you’re in for a fun wake-up call the next day. Drinking ten beers on a Monday…well, it’s pretendous. Also a heckuva lot of fun. Someday I’ll write my “I remember when I could do this and then run a 10K, only now I need a week’s recovery time, and I’m only 28, and boy, mortality’s a severe beeyotch, ain’t it?” article, but that’s not for today.

Tomorrow, the site will feature the first “How NOT to Date Ryan McGee” article in the History of Man. Chock full of good tips gleaned from the past year of silly, soul-sucking weirdness with the opposite sex.

In the meantime, I leave with this ponderous…uh, ponderation: if someone drunk dials you, but you yourself are drunk, is the drunk-dial in and of itself negated? How much does intent count against actual execution? I ask this since I spent the better part of five minutes arguing this with someone on the phone last night, until I think it digressed into me just gurgling, saying, “You’re like, pretty”, and passing out.

So we didn’t actually come to a conclusion, is what I’m saying. Was that a drunk-dial, or simply two drunk-ass peeps that happen to be on the phone with each other? Any light that can be shed would be helpful. Just don’t shine it in my eyes, still a bit groggy over here.