-Ah, New York City nightlife.  The clubs, the bars, the lounges, the beautiful women, the puddles of vomit.  What’s not to love?  Being in your early twenties, single, and living in Manhattan is a unique experience.  There are millions of interesting people in the city.  Unfortunately, most of them are waiting on line for the club you want to get in to.  Nevertheless, every night out brings a new adventure, along with a killer hangover, an empty back account and, of course, nipple stickers…

-I’m convinced that the only thing I spend my money on is alcohol.  I get my credit card bill back and it breaks down all my charges by category.  I usually only have one category listed: “Food & Drink.”  The thing reads like a Zagat guide to New York bars.

-The worst part about the bar is putting down a tab.  Tabs kill me.  Because once I put that credit card down, all of a sudden I become, “The most generous man who has ever lived!”  “You guys want a drink?  On my tab.  You guys?  Shots?  On my tab.  Ladies? Just put that on my tab, it’s under Karo.  You?  Tab.  You?  Tab.  Tab!  Tab!  Tab!  Barkeep, bring me a round of your finest spirits, on my tab!”  Then at the end of the night I get the bill and I’m like, “OK, who had a Miller Lite? You owe me three bucks. Seriously, pay up.”

-Ever notice that you’re all polite when you bump into someone in a bar?  “Oh, sorry dude.”  But if you turn around and realize it’s your buddy you bumped into, you’re like, “Oh it’s you, now I wish I wasn’t so polite.”