Rough Night, Not

The routine isn't very exciting blog material: "Six blankets to Tent City, consoling a bartender on the loss of her brother, pleasantries with da boys, blessing the woman on the corner at midnight."

The bar tender at the last place gave us a teasing bad time: "Hey, you, show me your ID." So I gave it right back.

Took out the Jetta key. "Watch it buddy, I'm armed." Flip goes the button like some big bad blade, out pops the key.

"Whoa, watchit with that." Word.

R