A few buddies and I got together for lunch at Village Whiskey yesterday and since it was such a sunny day, I just decided to take the whole day off. French fries cooked in duck fat, beer & cheese fondue to dip them in, and what is always the best burger in town, so tender and moist and well-seasoned. Delicious. I managed to swig three sidecars by the hour's end, so felt pleasantly buzzed as I strolled through Rittenhouse Square, chatting with my buddy Scott.

Neither of us had to be at work, so we hit an old favorite, Monk's Cafe, a great Belgian beer bar. There I got to chat with the owner who I hadn't seen in ages and a cute Irish bartender of whom I must tell a brief story. Back around 1996, I decided to dye my hair blonde as a lark. Uncertain of the results, I headed out to my local bar to see if I got any reaction. Now this particular bartender had seen me a hundred times before and we'd never exchanged anything more than a smile, but upon seeing my blonde hair, she immediately reached out with both hands and ran her fingers through my hair, saying, "Oh, my god, I love it!" Needless to say, this guaranteed that I would keep dying my hair blonde for the next half a decade. In fact, looking back, I really only stopped doing so once I had K. securely hooked.

After that, I sat in the park and read for a while before taking a sweet bicycle ride home.