Some of you may have wondered what it's like to have a martini poured on your crotch. Maybe not. I'll tell you anyway, it feels quite cold on the nadgers. This happened to me tonight at Cecelia's.

Since I now have worn a Metropolitan, I've experienced it with almost all of my senses. How I wish I could hear a Metro. This wasn't an embarrassing episode, but a bump in my status as a boozer, right?

Of course, the waitress was mortified, and by some miracle I didn't feel one sliver of anger. She gave me a wet towel and I cleaned up really well. You couldn't tell at all that I got a whole drink dumped on me.

But when the check came, did I get any sort of break? Hell no!

Poor form, Cecelia's. Poor form.

I didn't want to cause a scene in front of my guest, and somehow I still didn't feel any anger, so I just let it go. Maybe this is karmic retribution for that whole Fat Bob's thing.

I'd like to think of myself as a pretty decent, even tempered guy. When someone shits on the Beatles I tend to not be so nice. I was in a frustrating argument on Facebook with a guy who shit on the Beatles left and right. Talking about lack of music theory, and how easy it is to play.

Then I find out he plays.....Death Metal. I don't really feel the need to defend the Beatles anymore after learning that. Talk about a fucking black hole in music.

JBL