S.A.D., Schm-A.D.

Valentine's Day got it's ass kicked!

Official night's tally: 5 venues, 6 drinks, 2 shots, 4 girls, 3 guys & 5.5 hours of debauchery with this girl.

Things learned:

Whenever possible, begin an evening out by having dinner with two really cool chicks, AB and K. (No, this wasn't included in the above tally. But I did have some sake...)

They don't do kareoke on Tuesdays at Cafe Japone. They do have lame-ass amateur stand-up. To the only person we heard before turning to leave, I have two tips: 1- No one thinks jokes about how skinny you are are funny. 2- It would've been funnier as 'labia majora.' I left saying, "They're gonna draw her hmm-hmm candle-holder??

All the hottest places don't have signs.

"Oh, right. Yeah." is a British thing. Judging by Phil, they say it all the time.

Whenever possible, step down from the table you're dancing on to take a shot and pass the unfinished half to the guy who's been watching. As he's holding it, lean over and say, "I don't know why guys hit on girls who dance like sluts." Then climb back on the table.

I still need to come up with a response to: "Where did you learn to dance like that?" But honestly, what do they expect? Jamaica? Cape Town? Strip Club?

Citron on Tuesdays is a good place to quickly scratch the Salsa itch.

It's hard to stick to my resolution cuz I want everyone to find Steve's as fun as I do. Even if there is a vicious rumor that it's the White House.

Play will always be packed, no matter what night it is (and evidently filled with married bankers sans their wedding rings. All I'm sayin').

By boycotting dating, i've wasted too much time (aka this past weekend) already. It's time to get a new rotation going. I like Puerto Rico.

And finally, Ash reigns supreme in bathroom pow-wows. Nicole and Maggs hold the title for best cab-huddle.