The same tea-totaler who at one time, not many moons ago, would berate me for intoxication while I cried to her, head in throne, at midnight on a Saturday, is three sheets to the wind mid-workday after an office sponsored Thanksgiving lunch.
She called me a bitch over IM and I swear I could hear the slurred Brooklyn and smell the virtual wine on her breath. I suspect the only Open Source in that office today is a bottle of Boone's.
It doesn't get much better than that.
Kbee: keep it up and I'll write a blog about your drunkass
L: blob away