What happens in (insert city here), stays here

I could have blogged all weekend, but alas, what do you say when “whatever happens in (insert city here),” in fact, stays in that city?

We’ve been on a work adventure trip in my favorite city, where all we have really managed to do is work, eat and drink, and probably not in that particular order. 😉 I’m exhausted and stuffed and ready to be done with work but I don’t really want to go home. I volunteered to work the holiday weekend just because it’s a change of pace. I mean, where in D.C. can you get a decent pastrami sammich and a chocolate egg cream? We went to one of Michael Jordan’s restaurants and Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grille, to name a few, and it’s just nice to feel a little bit spoiled and a whole lot appreciated.

What I will say is that we always know when B. hits town, as the next morning? EVERYONE is wrecked. It was the Sidecar drink that derailed me — Hennessy and lord only knows what else. All I know is that I walked the streets of Midtown Manhattan for hours, froze my ass off and still came back drunk … and I don’t remember a minute of it!

Funny how we don’t have the memories of the best times in our heads, but we know they happened … usually when you pull out all your receipts and faint when you see your signature and don’t remember pulling out your credit card. … 😉

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