ALAN ADSBE....

is forthcoming.

And here it is. ALAN ADSBE is an anagram of a pair of words that adorned the chests of Ron, Rich, Peter and I as part of our costume for the 1st Annual Inappropriate Individuals Party, hosted last Saturday at the law school. Obviously, this was not a school-sanctioned party; it was hosted by a girl who dressed as Janet Jackson from the super bowl, complete with wardrobe malfunction and aluminum foil jewelry.

But before we get to that, I should mention my birthday celebration the night before. With a well-crafted email espousing my more admirable traits, Brian managed to wrangle about 10 or so people to a swanky restaurant/bar/loft in the East Village called Essex, which serves a interesting variety of Latin fusion cuisine (for example, I selected calamari with habanero guacamole as an appetizer). The atmosphere - high ceilings, skylights, and elevated eating area - was awesome; the food less so (but still acceptable). The beverages, of course, were fantastic (I had a delicious mango margarita and the staff even offered our entire party free liquor at the bar once we had finished our meal, a reward we indulged in liberally.

At this point a few more people showed up, and to show my appreciation I immediately ordered our posse to abandon Essex and migrate towards Pioneer, which I mistakenly thought was a block or two away. At Pioneer, drinks flowed freely and inhibitions dispersed like knowledge of Contract law after the final. Accordingly, someone who will not be named spilled a drink on his fellow patrons for no apparent reason and someone else almost entered into a physical confrontation with a person suspected of being a member of the Russian Mafia. Good times and I'm happy no one got killed (a reference to the latter predicament)

Now back to our regularly scheduled program. The Inappropriate Individuals event turned out to be a blast, mainly because (1) my roommates were intoxicated beyond belief (one dressed up as a priest and the other an altar boy) and (2) our costume drew so much positive attention. If you cannot figure out what was spelled out on our chests and why the costume was as beloved as it was, I will give you a hint: we wore Mardi Gras BEADS that night. Frankly, I'd rather people didn't know what it said, as I am a little bit embarrassed by the juvenile nature of our creation, so don't put too much effort into deciphering the code.

After leaving D'AG and the inappropriate individuals stationed there and after multiple Forks in the Neck delivered by Peter, we ventured over to Town Tavern, a bar that recently opened up adjacent to Fat Black. There, we drank quite a few beverages with our new best friend, Courtney, who was kind enough to meet up after avoiding my birthday celebration the night prior. Never one to disappoint, Peter soon managed to get 86'ed from the bar for either constantly going in and out of the entrance or starting a fight with the bouncer - no one is sure which of these actions was the true cause but rest assured, in his state of drunkeness, both were more than sufficient. I, for one, salute the bouncer for the public service he performed by removing Peter from the crowded interior where he was bound to administer a true "Fork in the Neck". Following his shameful discharge, Peter, honorable and noble as always, chose to direct his anger toward a more worthy opponent - a five-foot tall irate female. Fortunately, Courtney quickly quelled the commotion and, with a rallying cry of "Pioneer", we sped off in search of fame and fortune at our favorite bar in NYC.

The remainder of the night has been captured in pictures, but not my memory. Well, that's not completely true; I actually remember most of what happened it's just not exciting enough to bore you with. One last thing, if you are ever considering walking to Greenwich Village from Gramercy Tavern at 4 A.M., don't.