Remember, fans, Tuesday is Die Hard Night. Free admission for anyone who was actually alive the last time the Indians won the pennant.

When a Staten Islander and a Mainer by way of Nicaragua visit, livers get sent on a tailspin into the trenches of inebriation.

Friday:
Bigfoot Lounge
Beer.
Fencing jokes.
More beer.
Faux fights about whose native country is superior.
Last call for beer.
Late night texting about whose country is going down.

Saturday:
A lovely little joint called "Would You Believe? Cocktails!" So quaint, it's only customers are word of mouth, and possibly half an asian mafia.
Beer.
Pool and 90's hip hop.
More Beer.
Bodega.
Jesus candle.
Drunk enthused Russian who wants to spoon D.
G's apt.
A buttload more beer.
Peace talks initiate.
Snog.
Drunken cab home, still have wallet, bberry, keys and half my dignity intact, phew.

Sunday:
Double hangover.
BART
Ballgame.
Beer.
Nachos + Big Dog which is in fact quite tiny.
Little to no conversation due to sluggishness.
Half a farmer's tan.
Nap time.
Fight Club (the film, not my own organized underground conspiracy).
Tacos.
Beer.
Simpsons.
Night Night.

Monday:
Exhaustion.
Work.
Ballgame.
Beer.
Bleacher buddies.
Gave my coat to a fat guy cause he was cold.
Text-a-holic.
Bus home.

Tuesday:
Tearful goodbyes, at least they would have been had we not been so dehydrated.
My liver is on probation.

Wednesday:
My liver is off probation for good behavior...