Happy Hour Drinking with DCist

It’s Thursday night. It’s late. Maybe even 1am. You are drunk. You have a vague memory of the night. There were women present. None really talked to you, but they were there. You might have given out your card. You did dry heave in the cab. You probably can’t go back to the bar – something about trying beer pong, not Beirut on the fancy new ping pong tables.

Right, its coming back to you now, like sobriety will in the morning. It was the , DCist happy hour! Like the Metblog happy hour, you had a great time and got wasted. Maybe there were even other people involved! That would be a first.

No matter, you know you had a good time, you know you were cool; you know it was the DCist you imagined. You know it was almost rocking at the Metblog level, and you know you’d never be biased.

Yep, you know it’s was a damn good time. And why weren’t you there?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Married, mortgaged, and soon to be a father, Wayan Vota is in the fast lane to mid-life respectability – until the day his brood finds his intimate journal of global traveling and curses him with the ever-eternal reply “I’m gonna be just like you, Dad!”

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