This is your wallet speaking…

Since I’m desperately trying to get %NON|NightOutNow.Net% back in full swing by the time summer arrives. My %ADROCK|buddy% and have decided it’s time to put ourselves back into the scene. We attented a party last night called “The Bartenders Ball No.3” downtown in the Warehouse District at a club called Tramp ( formerly known as %BUDDHA|Funky Buddha%; this is still quite confusing as the club has 2 floors. The bottom floor is still called Funky Buddha and the main floor is now called Tramp. The sign outside says Tramp, but Funky Buddha still ‘exists’). The night started out rather chill. We arrived probably around 10pm. The music pumping but at a lower volume than normal ‘Club Levels’. The crowd was thin. Something I expected for a Sunday night party. But then something happened, 12mid-night hit and the place was packed, wall to wall.. Elbow to elbow. and my wallet was wearing quite thin. I swear I hung up my dancing shoes years ago when I decided Grand-pa was too old to cut some rug. But the music was hop’n, the girls were looking fine, and the RedBull & Vodkas took control. Dancing off my buzz was a good thing for the ride home. Not sure how much sleep I got, as my brain just wouldn’t shut off. I repeatedly looked at my clock, and I counted the hours before it was time to get ready for work. Wide awake at 6am. Two hours earlier than I need to be awake; I struggle to nap just a bit more. Finally giving up, I threw the towel in. “You win” I thought as I got out of bed at 7am to iron my clothes and shower. Thankfully my work day was light and people weren’t too demanding. I was able to sit in my dark office ( the cave as I like to call it ) and tap away at my keyboard fininishing up some major code that will make life at work a lot easier. Speaking of lack of sleep. It’s 2am. I should be in bed, but Geek Inside(tm) just won’t let it happen. . . . To bed.. Damnit.. Sleep…

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