Stella, why does thou deceive me?

Damn, Handsome takes a good picture...if he can make me look this normal just a five weeks out of the delivery gate, then the Man is a genius. AND, if you happen to find yourself in the fine Hon-a-licious sector of our fair city, the lovely HAMPDEN (hon) on November 22, pop into Holy Frijoles for the Baltimore Flickr Show Opening Reception to see more of his talented work (7-9PM).

Last night a friend of ours offered to watch The Bean so that Handosme and I could go out on a date. Not wanting to pass up the opportunity to hang out alone with my super-stud, I immediately accepted. Yay, date! I love a date. A date that involves Stella Artois and pub grub.

Now, back in the day (only two years ago), when Handsome and I were just departing on the love train, we could drink each other under the table, convincing bartenders to get us another round, even though last call occurred twenty minutes prior. We could stay out until 2 or 3 in the morning, fool around until 4, and still make it to our jobs, acceptably cleaned up, by 8:30.

But now? Now we were slightly snappy with each other while trying to decide where in the hell to actually "go out" to. A destination that:
(1) wouldn't have too long of a wait for a table
(2) wasn't heading into the downtown traffic that looked like it was swallowing SUVs whole
(3) wouldn't require walking in the pretty damn cold weather too far
(4) wouldn't make us chant any prayers to the Parking Goddess
....don't we sound fun? We were like to crotchety old people with sleep deprivation, or new parents who haven't had a good night's sleep in almost six weeks.

Finally, in an attempt to just GO to somewhere, we decided on the faux Irish bar up the road from our babysitting friend's place. Two blocks of walking, and we were riding the wave of a Friday Night Happy Hour in a wannabe Irish bar that reminds me of something we could have experienced in Epcot Center or on the Its A Small World ride. But whatever, they have beer and french fries - table for two please!

Handsome had a beer and then opted for a Martini, I downed four beers and a Caeser salad....we tried, we really did, to forget that we were in a freaking yuppie frenzy, shouting at each other in an attempt to have normal conversation. I smoked almost an entire pack of cigarettes on my own just to keep from staring at the 40-ish older man with a combover and his trashed date as they tried to make out with each other. And we both yawned like it was our job throughout the $80, three hour tour of our Date in Ireland.

Finally, it was time to go, and we bundled up and headed out into the Stupid Winter to relieve our dear friend of Bean Watching. Handsome and I walked quickly, probably trying to avoid admitting to each other that the Ireland Date sucked ass, that WE sucked ass right now, but then my Man said, "Lets not do this again...I would rather stay home with you the Bean and a bottle of wine."

I freakin' love him. And I love that a bottle of wine would cost a hell of a lot less than our night out at the yuppie bar did, and I could wear my fuzzy pink socks while sitting on the couch with my little family unit.

Now, that sounds like a date.