we named the dog indiana

New York City nightlife is a lot like this. You think you've found something all bright and shiny and delicious, but you're really just a few crappy special effects away from a very bad end.

At least Walter Donovan had the luxury of a dusty death. I had to spend the day hungover and I had to hear the voice of that fucking knight, saying over and over in my mind "You chose ... poorly."

Although, in my defense, when faced with a two-for-one weeknight drink special, it's hard to choose wisely.