BackTrack: Too Many Olives for Dinner

Thursday felt like a night for a dirty martini. It was crisp, I had my boots and my favorite winter white fedora and, all importantly, my colleague and I hadn't had a proper happy hour since her nuptials. In deciding where to go, I defaulted to her expertise and off to Tavern on Rush we went. Sped, really.

Tavern is the capital of the Chicago sector known as the "Viagra Triangle" for all of the older gents trolling for younger ladies. I can't say that I've spent much time there because, well, I have limited patience for that kind of game. That said, it's supposed to be a great place for a martini and made me feel a little Rat Pack.

I get through my first drink rather quickly and Colleague was giving me her comments on Thursday's post- they were great and I will be sharing them tomorrow. Martini Number 2 was interrupted by a pair of gentlemen in town from Hartford and wearing UPS pins. My mom grew up in that neighborhood and I used to work in marketing at FedEx so Colleague and I are chatty. Let me be clear- I find neither of these two attractive and the one was rather pushy so I pushed him on married colleague who can handle herself:) They were kind enough to buy a round and cruel enough to buy what I can only guess to be several others. Colleague and I were having a ball at Landmark (bar 2- why? could not tell you) but enough was ENOUGH and we turned in nice and toasted around 10 (having begun at 5:30).

Please do not mistake turned in for in bed. I decided i should still be up and corresponding, responding to comments, writing emails and getting myself fed. Six blue cheese stuffed olives did not a steady girl make. What to do while on my health kick? A Lean Cuisine of course! Pop it out of the freezer and into the microwave- a lifesaver.

Fast-forward to this morning:

What's wrong with this picture?

I apparently decided to rearrange the freezer and did not notice the ice-cream shaped hole I left. CVDJ was at my apartment when I discovered this (I don't often gaze at the top of my fridge) and she was just more than mildly amused. I was simply reminded WHY these happy hours are fabulous but few and sorry that the ice cream had to suffer my lessons.