After celebrating Candy's birthday Friday night, I just have one question: how come I didn't get Smart-Served?
I'm an adult, and I take full responsibility for deciding to drink all of Sweden. I realize that in getting a pretty entertainment reporter's name wrong, I made an ass of myself. And not just the regular kind of ass. Getting her mixed up with a reporter on a rival network made me an ass hat. I might as well have called her Tricia Takanawa -- she might have had a less horrified look on her face then.
But seriously, when I fumble my bar order by asking for "an Absolut Mandarin and vodka" -- on two separate occasions -- maybe it's time to offer me just a plain club soda. Ugh.