What Else Can I Say?

Even the East Tennessee Bucs were involved in tonight’s story.

This evening's post requires layer upon layer of explanation. It would do well to explain outright that I returned, perhaps against my better judgment, to Brooklyn Social, if only to receive Mr. and Ms. Halfz.

The night went more or less as expected, until the Halfzes retired. Thereupon I found myself offering my own room for rent to the girls basketball coach from my high school, and was accosted by a girl who insisted she was merely allowing her "friend" to cavort freely with a female. This would have been but a minor development, until it emerged that she, in turn, was the roommate of the boyfriend of... my very best friend from my college days (and also the author of You're Okay.)

All of these matters are, as my readers must surely agree, extremely delicate. The timing was key; Halfzie and his missus witnessed naught. But it should at least be pointed out that the chances of finding one's best friend's boyfriend's roommate at a Brooklyn bar approach 1 in 4,000,000.

The same chances now confront me, at least when it comes to finding a job. So, in conclusion, I offer only this: if you or yours happens to be aware of a job opportunity in the D.C. area for a bright-eyed and optimistic Ivy leaguer, do not hesitate to keep me well advised. We can't all man the bar with the heft of Maine's substantial real estate juggernot to back us up.

Ya heard?