Remember the Days when he Used to Pound Blackstar?

Mike and I so rarely drink these days that we've become total lightweights. At the risk of sounding like I'm glorifying drunkenness--which I'm obviously too old for--this is another story about what happens when fortysomethings in twentysomethings' bodies have a date involving wine: we had to set the coffee maker for the morning cause we had to wake up and go to work. Mike managed, with great concentration, to grind up the beans, but since he has broken the urn on our coffeemaker before (sober) I asked him to be careful and not dance so much with it in his hand. He explained to me in response that he was "totally zen" about the coffee urn, and as he poured the water into the cistern he elaborated, "ZeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeen." Think of the line in "American Pie" "8 miles high and fallin fast" and you get the idea.

Then Mike sang a song about my high school. The lyrics went "Brearley: it is like a mass lesbian wedding. But if you want to be a lesbian, better do it before graduation." The tune was not identifiable as such. I told him that was a nice song, but still not as good as Jeff's, which goes, "Brearley, Brearley School. Queens of the Upper East Side. Brearley, Brearley School. Collegiate better run and hide." At this judgment, Mike became belligerent, insisting that no song that piggybacked on the tune to "Davey Crockett" could be considered better than his.