Hi Everybody,
We all need to stop by All Things Amanzi and vote for Bongi, a South African surgeon who is a wonderful writer and caring doctor. He's up for a MedGadget award, and we need to stuff the ballot box. Vote for Bongi!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
We Need to Vote!
Hi Everybody,
We all need to stop by All Things Amanzi and vote for Bongi, a South African surgeon who is a wonderful writer and caring doctor. He's up for a MedGadget award, and we need to stuff the ballot box. Vote for Bongi!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Devorrah's Shallow Gene Pool
Here you see a photo of my "careful" son (22). His brother called me up to tell me that Careful Son had been admitted to a university medical center nearby with burns to his face and down his throat (2nd degree, skin; chemical burns in throat). It seems one of his friends taught him to "eat fire" by taking a mouthful of lighter fluid and igniting it while spewing it out. C.S. says he's done it "lots of times" without incident, but he concedes that these events transpired before he grew a beard. Apparently a bit of fluid got on his beard and things went south from there. This was a few weeks ago, and he is recovering nicely and regaining his voice.What I don't understand is how a genuinely smart kid like him (high test scores and everything!) could be so stupid. Incidentally, there was no alcohol involved, and he did it in his own back yard. Can anyone explain this to me? I'm already aware of the substandard DNA issue, BTW. Probably has something to do with both parents being lawyers...
11 comments:
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Why Did I Do It? What Do You Do?
I can't believe I did it--I ate four cookies yesterday. This would just be a problem of extra calories except that I'm gluten intolerant, and I spent today sick in bed, mad at myself and swearing that I'd never eat cookies again. I can't believe I did it.What do you do that is bad for you and makes you sick with regret? Come on, there must be something...something worse than cookies.
Halloween Night At Devorrah's House
Was I ever that young? My adorable 12 yr. old stepdaughter had a sleepover last night with four friends, and I took a surreal road trip down memory lane. The girls were no trouble, trick or treating in the rain in their anime costumes, eating enough candy to cause a bezoar and watching scary movies. I made sure they flossed before bed.I was nothing, nothing like any of the girls that were here last night. It makes me so happy to see them do stuff I never did, like waste time at the computer, giggle and screech over girl gossip and joke with their parents.
My parents loved me, but they disliked each other, and I was running the household by age 11 so my Mom, a professor, could escape my Dad by teaching night classes. I was a bit of an accident, as my Mom thought she was infertile, and she got pregnant on the same day my newly adopted brother arrived home from the hospital. I ironed all my Dad's shirts, cleaned the house, read a lot, took music lessons for three different instruments, played clarinet in the band and oboe in the orchestra, sewed and did needlepoint, babysat, taught poor children how to read at a summer church program and helped my brother with his paper route. I also served my Dad dinner when he came home and was expected to sit with him so he wouldn't be lonely. On weekends my brother and I escaped to the library.
My brother Dan was the illegitimate grandson of another university professor, and he was identified as a genius in the second grade, apparently with an IQ of 180. Me, I'm smarter than most of the other People magazine subscribers, but I'm no genius. Dan was left alone to skip grades and take calculus classes, and I was basically on the vocational track, which was actually excellent preparation for single parenthood! I can do plumbing and electrical repairs! I can sew, cook and garden (yuck)! I was scared of both of my parents, so I tried to fly under their radar by being very useful. My brother was all over the 4.0 end of things, so I didn't spend much time on schoolwork.
It was only after Dan and Dad died in a plane crash in my junior year of high school that I eventually found my own interests, and they were mostly academic, nerdy ones. Now that all that schooling is behind me, though, I'm enjoying all the domestic things that I never forgot how to do. And now that I'm not a single parent any more, I don't have to do them by myself!! This is honestly the most enjoyable part of my life so far, as I don't have to prove anything, escape from anything, or do much of anything (except work--2 mortgages) if I don't want to.
So I had a most excellent Halloween, the best ever. My youngest son spent the night so he could go bike riding with Mr. Devo this morning (in the rain--they're hardcore), and I think I'll just read a book, watch a movie and appreciate my good fortune and many blessings. Happy Halloween to everyone at the hideout! And if you have any electrical problems, just call.
7 comments:
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Wow. Our childhood's were exactly the same, yet completely different.
I also served my Dad dinner when he came home...On weekends my brother and I escaped to the library.
THIS is right out of my life. I still love going to the library because of all the things it represents to me.
I am jealous of your Halloween. I miss those days. I loved being a fly on the wall when my daughter would have friends over -- it was sheer delight for me. You definitely got a treat for your Halloween. - November 1, 2008 11:30 AM
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Dear Devorrah,
I'm sorry your childhood was so grim. But yea for the new marriage and the happiness it has brought you!!!
XOXOX, Teresa - November 1, 2008 1:13 PM
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Yeah!!! Thanks. That was the point of the post--it's never too late! Especially for those idiots like me that pick the wrong parents and starter husbands.
- November 1, 2008 2:10 PM
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Do you really know electricity???? We have a haunted house here with two rooms constantly overloading the circuit. It is a brand new house (almost 5 years old I guess) and we have had 2 electricians here doing whatever they do and STILL all the time it stops working for a few days and then corrects itself for a few weeks. The kids won't go in their rooms most of the time because of it. Ideas?
Happy Halloween! Kid sleepovers are so much fun! - November 1, 2008 5:46 PM
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Oooh weird! Do you need a new breaker box? Maybe you could be on one of those TV shows where they do thermal imaging of ghosts, speaking in breathless tones about the sudden coldness of the room. Actually, I would ask around for a superstar electrician and let him play with your Nerf guns while he's there.
- November 1, 2008 8:43 PM
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So you say there is still hope eh? I have given up all hope and I am 33!
- November 2, 2008 8:17 PM
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Absolutely! I just turned 46, and I was single for 12 years. Not miserable, just busy raising kids, working and dating nimrods.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
My Personal Theme Song
Sunday, November 16, 2008
I've decided that I need to don some emotional armor before dealing with my mother, who uses words like "disappointing" when referring to me, so Mr. Devo helped me upload this indispensable bit of cheap (free) therapy that you can use too in difficult interactions with your boss, spouse, child or probation officer. We actually still have the big rubber turtle shell that my kids used to wear when running around the house in their underwear (last year) singing this sing...
11 comments:
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Good One!! I was always more of a "Thundercats" fan, but TMNTs was good too. Raphael Kicked Ass!!!!!
- November 16, 2008 10:58 AM
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Quite the disappointment indeed. I think we share a mother. My father feels the same way too. Tough being a turtle ;)
- November 16, 2008 2:23 PM
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Heroes in a halfshell--Turtle power!!
- November 16, 2008 2:59 PM
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The more I hear childhood stories from other people, the more I realize I was blessed.
I am sorry your mother feels like A/ she is disappointed B/ she feels the need to tell you.
Arrrgh.... that makes me angry. I hope you never believed her. - November 16, 2008 5:06 PM
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I used to. Now I know it says more about her than me.
- November 16, 2008 6:03 PM
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My parents are "disappointed" in me, but they are disappointed with themselves and project it onto me. It took a while to figure it out, but it all makes sense.
If Devo wasn't 10 years older ;) live on the other side of the country, divorced, re-married and have kids, I would think we had the same childhood :) - November 16, 2008 6:19 PM
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Trivial details, dear C!
- November 16, 2008 6:30 PM
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Devo, with the exception of Mr. Devo, oh and law school you can benefit from this arrangement. You can be 34, self employed, and free to roam. Thinking of spending a month in a cabin in the woods of the north east. This after a week in CA (no offense but yuck) and a week in St. Martin. Yes and I bragging and no life doesnt suck ;)Oh how I crave the sound of silence.
- November 16, 2008 6:39 PM
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Well, okay, maybe we are different: I'm miserable with the sound of silence. And I definitely wouldn't want to be 34 again! I'm much happier now.
- November 16, 2008 7:22 PM
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C. -- you mentioned that you loved your four-legged friend best over any two-legged companion you might have chosen. If that's a dog or a cat, but I understand completely. Will Judy, the publisher of "Dog World" magazine used to say, "A dog is the only true love that money can buy."
Regrettably, our pets' lives are usually shorter than ours. My daughter and family lost their 10 year old male, Porter, a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, last summer. He succumbed to heart problems. We grieved more for Porter than for any human companion I can recall. After all, he was my daughter's first "child" and born on Grampa's birthday, June 23, as well.
Another female Cavalier, Ginger, from the same breeder, has found her way into the family. Her temperament is also very sweet.
My husband and I have owned many animals, but now we travel too much for this responsibility. I told my husband a few years ago that when I croak, he should get a dog! Maybe he'll find a woman -- who can cook and who likes hot weather -- at the other end of the leash. That's be fine with me, 'cause I'll be dead!
EK - November 17, 2008 10:31 AM
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I'll have to hum the theme when I visit my in-laws next time. It'll take me to a happy place.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
You Might Live in a University town in Californian If...
1. You worry a LOT about the size of your carbon footprint, and you wouldn't take anything but a Prius or a bicycle to the farmer's market.2. Earthquakes don't even interrupt your bikini wax anymore.
3. You had pre-cancerous skin lesions burned off before the age of 30. You avoid the sun like plutonium.
4. You don't eat anything with wheat, caffeine, white sugar, animal products, preservatives, artificial colors or ingredients or anything else in it. You're a member of the natural foods coop, though you don't actually shop there. You mention your membership in your Match.com portfolio.
5. You, your parents, your roomate and/or one of your siblings is gay. You march in the Gay Pride parade with them. You see your teacher there.
6. You thank the deity of your choice that you a) married money b)won the lottery c) sold your kidney on ebay, because you'd never be able to afford a house otherwise. Though renting may be a sounder socio-economic-political choice anyway...
7. If you're sleeping with a conservative you tell your friends you've given up on dating. If you're sleeping with another woman, your boss, your ex-husband or your plumber, well, you have nothing to hide.
9. The kids can go bike riding in the sunshine on Christmas day. All the toys use rechanrgeable batteries and minimal packaging.
10. All the moving/yard sales feature chemistry or engineering textbooks and educational baby toys. They are held in the wake of the simultaneous faculty appointment/divorce. Even the toddlers are articulate, but frazzled.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Beer, Boob Jobs and Bucks
Yesterday we went to the Nevada City Fairgrounds to attend "Beerfest". I don't drink beer, as I'm allergic to gluten, but I tagged along anway. It's a bad idea to NOT drink at a Beerfest, though, as you do not want your observational skills in peak operating condition at such an gathering.
The mail attraction was the beer, of course, and my husband and his friend got wristbands with a bunch of tear-off tags on them. Enough about them, though, they weren't as interesting as the crowd, which was composed of primping girls who figured they could definitely get a date there (check), babies everywhere (sometimes included in the previous group), guys wearing "utilikilts", girls with beer stickers on their asses, weird hairdon'ts and more bolt-on boob implants than you can shake a scalpel at. I might as well have worn a burkha as the shorts and t-shirt I had on. The favorite male Californian game of "Real, fake, fake, fake..." held no challenge, as all the plastic surgery consumers were intent on getting their money's worth, and the goods were barely covered.
My husband's friend had one beer too many, and he accidentally stuck his elbow in my chest as he turned around. Without hesitation he called out "Real!", drawing the hairy eyeball from my husband, because husbands in general don't like to hear these reports about their wive's boobs from other men, even at Beerfests.
After dinner and a walk around Nevada City it was time to drive home on curvy mountain roads. Suddenly a buck, also with a big rack, ran across the road, and it seemed that we would barely miss him. But then another buck jumped out right in front of us, and we hit him with the front of my husband's SUV. I'm incredibly glad that my husband was driving, as I probably would have swerved off a cliff or into oncoming traffic and killed the deer, us AND a few other people. I was traumatized that we had killed a deer and my better half was totally pissed off about his car. As he washed his car today, muttering something about "rodents with hooves" I observed the Law of the Angry Husband (be quiet and bring beverages) and mourned the deer's passing in private.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
When Cyclists Marry Civilians
I'm a polygamist of sorts: I share my husband with fourteen sleek beauties. They're his bikes. Fortunately the harem is not supported by our earnings, as Mr. Devo is a pro, and he has sponsors. And I have to admit that they are gorgeous, each a high-maintenance diva requiring expensive oils and lots of TLC. And I have to admit that the girls keep my husband happy in a way I couldn't by myself.
I have other reasons for making nice with the girls in the garage: They keep Mr. Devo in enviable form, and they get him out of the house long enough for me to engage in my sordid addictions: People magazine, hard lemonade, and TV. I even wear bicycle necklaces and t-shirts to evidence my support. But don't tell him about the TV, booze and trash magazines: He thinks I'm giving blood and teaching orphans to read.
Monday, July 21, 2008
My Slurpee Weddding
My fiance, #3 and I got married on 7/11, just as planned! He's a city planner, and he planned evey detail of the proposal, ceremony and honeymoon, right down to the flowers and cake. We both wanted a fun courthouse wedding with our children and friends in attendance, and it truly was the wedding of my dreams. There were a few apple-shaped clouds on the horizon, though...The first threat to our nuptial bliss arose in the form of the Apple iPhone 3G, which just had to be released on my freaking wedding day. #3 popped up bright and early and dashed out the door without his coffee, which is like a diabetic going to Africa on purpose without his insulin. I was heroically teaching remedial summer school kindergarten on my wedding day (and unheroically bitching about it), and I kept getting text messages from #3 that went from hopeful to desolate as the supply of phones dwindled.
I figured the wedding was off, he would never find happiness without the newest iPhone. But our love triumphed--sort of!! He proclaimed his undiminished and unconditional interest in me ("love" was reserved for the iPhone). Just then a new threat arose, though---a software update. Only a previously undisclosed social disease could have posed a greater disruption, as #3 beavered over his menu options for what seemed like hours. Just when I was trying to remember my Match.com password--- he got his menu right!
At this point beautiful flowers were produced from his trunk, we went to the courthouse, exchanged rings and pledged eternal tech support to one another. This solemn ceremony was performed in a special room in the court house that was designed to invoke the splendor of the neighboring vineyards. I asked his biking buddies if they wanted one last chance to change his mind, but they had given up, resigned to showing their support in their rasta biking socks, ponytails, earrings and shorts.
And then, what could we do but go to 7-11? We all got free slurpees, and then it was on to a wonderful dinner at a beautiful restaurant. #3 had bravely endured oral surgery just days before, as he had a bike accident that knocked out his four front teeth. So he mostly just drank a lot of wine, but we all had a blast. We all agreed that we'd had more fun at this wedding than at any other. If we run out of money on the honeymoon we'll just knock out a few more of my husband's teeth and add them to the bill.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
I Love A Man Who Shaves His Legs...
We visited #3's Mom recently in Southern California, and I loved her, as she's sweet, funny, bright and tough. She lives in a very nice memory care facility, and she has early alzheimer's disease. Anyway, #3 introduced me as his fiance, and we chatted for awhile. After a bit I went to the bathroom, and apparently Mom said to #3,"I like her, but after this one, please no more. How is the last one doing?" Now, I'm only going to be his second wife, but I support the notion of being the last wife.
Later we walked around Newport Beach, ate lunch and went shopping. She was walking behind us, and she later said to me, "I was noticing your legs. You're too pale--you need to get out into the sun more. And you, #3, your legs don't look too good either." This totally cracks me up, because he's an ultracyclist with awesome legs. Can't wait to get old and tell people exactly what I think of their legs (-: .
Saturday, July 5, 2008
The "Bride Adequate" Program
I was reading on the internet that I, as a bride-to-be in six days, should be on countdown with the "Bride Beautiful Program". It's a full schedule of manicures, colon cleanses, karma recalibration, fasting, shopping and tanning. Well, I can't be bothered with any of this, as I'm teaching summer school this year to thirty remedial kindergarteners, and I'm feeling lucky to still be alive and coherant at noon every day when they go home. So I'm on what I call the "Bride Adequate Program".Yes, I have a dress, which I got at the Goodwill. I didn't go there for a dress--I was dropping off a million things that won't begin to fit in a combined household someday. I just saw it, and it was purple, and perfect. I got my dream wedding dress for $5.00. This is all I've done to prepare. It would be more motivating if #3 hectored me about the need for manicures and such, but I have a rough and tumble life with kindergartners, three teenagers and three dogs, and it's just not me. Fortunately he seems to love the blur of activity that is me rather than an idealized, pedicured version, so he's happy.
Fortunately #3 has nothing but enthusiasm and energy for wedding preparations, and he's covered all the angles including the flowers, cake, ceremony and honeymoon. He also pulled off a very romantic, elaborate proposal at the top of the Mark Hopkins hotel in San Francisco, complete with champagne, flowers and audience participation. Two of #3's best friends had arrived some time earlier and discussed the need for the perfect table with all the diners, who uniformly offered up their own tables to increase #3's chances of winning my ink-stained hand.
The crowd decided we needed a good view, but perhaps not one of Alcatraz (bad vibe for a proposal), and the friends spent some time with Michael, the English-limited waiter, emphasizing the need for proper timing of the champagne (wait until she looks happy, if she looks happy etc...). I was, of course, thrilled, and we all went out to a fabulous dinner, then a concert at the Greek theater in Berkely. It was magical. Nothing like the proposal in my ex's apartment following better-than-usual sex.
We're getting married on 7/11/08, and we're going to transport everybody to the nearest 7-11 convenience store for Slurpies and a group photo before we go to dinner. We know this has all been quick, especially since the movie we saw on our first date ("Forever Young") is still in theaters. Our "kids" (his 2, my 2, my foster son and W's devoted girlfriend) are getting together for the first time tonight, as it's #3's birthday. Things have gone quickly for us, but we're taking things slowly with the kids, and their lives won't change much, as we're not combining households for some time. My ex-husband also suddenly decided to marry his longtime girlfriend too, so my kids just gained six new step-siblings. But I think life is less scary with more family members and people that love you, so I'm actually thrilled to have step-children in my life. And #3 is just glad to have a partner with combat experience!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Edith Ann Drives the Monster Truck
You know you're a bad driver when your Dad's insurance company bans you by name from driving any of his cars, which tend toward the shiny, fast, expensive red side of things. My son, #1, totaled his own car the other day, and now we're juggling cars. #1 is driving my Civic (navy blue and not shiny) and I'm driving the ex's HUGE new truck. The boys came out to laugh at me the first time I had to get in it, as I'm so short that I appeared to be a toddler trying to be a Big Girl, scrambling into the station wagon all by myself for the first time.
My ex is exhausting himself trying to find a junker for #1, as he needs the truck tomorrow and he doesn't want me driving one of the REALLY shiny cars that he normally drives himself. I'm hoping for a massive auto repair strike, so I can post about Edith Ann driving a hot sports car. More tomorrow!
Monday, June 23, 2008
Caught in a Romantic Catch-22
#3 says that one of the things he loves about me is that I'm a blogger (he's a well-known sponsored webmaster himself with almost two million hits). The problem is that I do my best blogging when I'm unhappy, and lately I've been happy, happy, happy!!! I'm getting married in 19 days, but I'm going to just have to suck it up and be unhappy so he'll still love me. Or maybe I should leave him at the altar for the sake of my readers and reconnect with one of the losers from my Red Flags post. Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Child-Assisted Abstinence
It's a complete miracle that all children aren't only children, as kids of all ages seem to do their best to ensure that their parents never have a private moment.#3 and I were plotting for some alone time yesterday, when we arrived at a plan: I'd drive to his city (30 min on the freeway) to take a nap together, then we'd come to my city to visit my Mom, go to a minor league baseball game and drive back to his city to sleep. Yeah, I know.
I drove to his house, and there was his adorable daughter, no sarcasm intended: She really is lovely, and nice, and smart, and she was just THERE. No tactful strategy could be arrived at to make her go away, so we engaged in our next-best activity: Computer shit! We sat at the table and figured out video conferencing and discussed the many completely appropriate uses for video when he's far away on business and lonely.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, Mom behaved herself, the game was fun, beer was drunk, we drove back to his city. It was 10:30 pm by now, and finally we had some to catch up on our reading. We were REALLY enjoying the shared literary experience when my phone rang. I ignored it--for awhile, when I decided that it might be my sister, who is sick. I returned the call, panting, and it turns out that my son wanted to know how to make rice. Not only has he asked me this question 100 times, but I had also written the fucking directions on the stupid rice cooker with a permanent marker some time ago (see photo!).
Anyway, the next morning we decided to try again, and his cat came over and peed in his suitcase. We're going to try again tonight--wish us luck!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Locked Out of the Love Nest
#3 and I had a very romantic trip to Calistoga, where we stayed in a bed and breakfast booked at the last minute. Good thing we're in love, because this particular B&B is hilariously operated by rednecks with pitbulls, drunk teenagers and various car projects. #3 was already in the Napa Valley on business, so #1 (my son), drove me to meet him.
The drive with #1 was one of the great things about the weekend, actually, as he is 21 yrs. old now, and thus officially past the surliness and monosyllabism of his teen years. He moved out several months ago, and since then it's been apparent that he actually misses me. Last night he called me to ask me if I would please go clothing shopping with him, as he was worried about selecting dress shoes that made him "look like an elf" (too pointy). Anyway, while I drove (he's a terrible driver) we talked about chimpanzees, vultures, quantum physics, books, music and many more things. It was one of the best conversations of my life, as I've waited so long for him to emerge from the morass of adolescence. He has a full-time job now and he's going to summer school, and I realized that my work is done: He's really an adult.
#3 was waiting out front to give me a hug and kiss, and we went inside. The B&B is a ranch house had a beautiful view, and it was filled with antiques that mirrored the history of the family that had once owned a mansion on the site. Which was akin to reflecting on the dinosaur inhabitants of the cretacious period, i.e no relation to the present. Our hostess, Debbie, was a blowsy, faded vixen with a heart of gold. She wore a tank top with no bra and short shorts, and her live-in lover was Eddie, a guy with few teeth and many grease stains. Running loose was a motley crew of dirty children and pasty-faced teenagers, apparently startled by the sunlight.
Our room was cute, though, and we enjoyied our privacy and the beautiful view. Eventually we got hungry and decided to take showers before going out to dinner. I showered first and emerged in just a robe. And there was my sweetheart, waiting in the hall in just his robe. At that point he announced, "We appear to be locked out of the love nest." The door had locked behind him, and our Elvis-loving hostess was nowhere to be found. Various attempts to unlock the door failed, and finally #3 resorted to entering a vacant room and climbing over our fenced balcony, naked in a short robe. My hero!
We had a great dinner, and when we returned we decided to relax in the hot tub. There were kids and teenagers running around all over the place, and about six drunk teenagers decided to join us in the hot tub. They were verbally redirected at the last minute by a disembodied adult voice. Eventually cars arrived to pick up some of the kids--at 11:00 p.m. Somewhat relaxed, we retired to our room. At about midnight, though, Debbie's son had to break open the door to our bathroom because a drunk 15 yr. old had fallen asleep in the shower. With the water on. We got a discount for that.
The next day was wonderful, though, we hiked. had a wonderful lunch and went wedding ring shopping. We drank a lot of wine, took naps and talked about how we would figure out the details of combining our lives (with wine! Lots of wine!) It was one of the best weekends of my life, and I thank Debbie and family for making it even more memorable.
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Simple Devo, its because the "Watch This!" Gene is on the Y Chromosome, and totally unrelated to intelligence. I had a similar incident, Alcohol WAS involved, in fact, was the accelerant. Short Version, trying to light some Kingsford, no lighter fluid, bright idea to use some of the 200 Proof Medicinal Alcohol we had in the supply room for some reason. Would have been safer using Gasoline. Took 6 months for my eyebrows to grow back.
Jeez. The beard is gone, eyebrows and hair are just singed. NO woman would do this!
Once I read that your son was OK (it's a relative term), I thought: Thank god, I have a daughter! (crossing myself even though I'm not Christian).
I fear every day for my sons. I *know* they're going to work me over.
When I was in grade school, the thing to do was take rubber cement and put it on your hand then light it. Couldn't feel a thing until the flame burned out all the 'cement' and went looking for your skin. Supposed to have a bucket of water nearby. Some kid in my town forgot the water and tried to shake the fire off. Needless to say the result.
I agree with FD, but only up to a point. It's a guy thing, hormonally related, but it does affect intelligence, to the point of making it disappear momentarily.
When he was 17, my brother tried to set his tongue on fire. Nobody really knows why.
Glad to see your son is going to be OK, it could have been so much worse.
Thanks Pemdas: One of my stepkids is a girl, and she's a breeze compared to her brother and my two boys.
Ahhhh....another joy of being single; the stupid things the Y chrom do.
It's called confidence building.
No alcohol involved, but were there woman present? Just another reason why smart guys do dumb things.
Of course.