Boozed, midweek

W.C. Fields wrote of martinis that they are like breasts - one is never enough, but three are too many. There was a man who never saw Total Recall.

After a storming night at Comedy Masala, we went down the street to our favourite speakeasy, but only had one drink each. This was a terrible idea.

If you're going to be on the lash on a Tuesday night, you need to commit fully to the enterprise, not sidle into it half-assed. If you're only having one drink then you're a civilian, no, an amateur non-combatant who has no business on the field of battle.

To be fair, my one drink had Cointreau in it, and gin, and absinthe, but still, I was weak to compromise between sobriety and obliteration and I'm sure I'll regret it in the morning. We also had a bowl of edamame, which are very spicy and slightly charred, but should a man of my age and height be committing to such caloric intake so late in the night? I should not. I should be tucked up asleep in bed, ready to go running at the crack of godforsaken-o'clock tomorrow morning.

Lucky for me, I suppose, that this is my week away from exercise... I can't help but suspect tomorrow might be a little bit painful, even without the early start.