Last Night the Sandwich Saved My Life

Literally. 

The Jayhawk and I tried to make it to District Commons last night, but the bar was 10 people deep, so we ended up at Kinkead's instead.  Good God I'd forgotten how white and boring that place is!  Luckily KK was behind the bar to make our experience bearable.  The half-priced oysters also helped.  As did the cod fritters (a little soggy, but yummy), the smoked chicken quesadilla (very nice; the fire-roasted tomatoes and slight kick to them were delicious), the queso dip (um, yeah, the mini ramekin of melted cheese that aspires to be as good as Chinmey Fall Cat's Ro*tel® queso was disappointing).  We had to leave, though, once the "fabulus" theater gays and their fruit fly arrived.  Their banality was vexing me.  So, we marched our way up 21st Street and landed at James Hoban's.  Good times were had once Mikey joined us.  And then, of course, we ended up at the Polly's (yes...Desperado's) to see Amber and keep mistreating our livers. 

That's where my memory ends.  This morning (an hour ago, really) I pieced together the vague bits of info from the night after being at Polly's.  We may have gone to Dynasty and had a beer at Joe's insistence (gotta be neighborly, you know).  And may have rolled up into Judy but quickly exited.  And definitely went to Fast Gourmet because the half eaten Milanesas in the fridge tell me that we did.  I'm not sure if we watched old videos of Iris Chacón on the YouTube or not.  But I do feel like there might have been some dancing in the living room.  Either way, thank you, mi querida Milanesa!  You really did save our lives.