Charlie is going back to school this semester (and I hope to join him by next fall). What this means for the immediate is that three days a week he can’t get into the Indy until 11:30 at the earliest, which means Gary has lost his ten-o’clock prep guy, which means that me and Zap have been drafted to pick up the slack. I went in at ten on Monday, Zap is scheduled to be in at ten today, and we’ll both be in at ten on Friday.

Which is all good and well, but Zap sometimes doesn’t look at his schedule — it’s generally the same week to week — so I don’t know if he’s aware he’s scheduled at ten today. Plus, he and Gary sometimes get into long, involved, complicated sports discussions which negate his focus on prep work.

Long story short: I’m going in early today. It’s too late to be in by ten today — I’d've had to jump in the shower ten minutes ago — but I can get there at a quarter after. If Zap is there, we’ll have the whole list done by eleven, and if he’s not, well, there can never be enough brown nosing.

Tuesday night was an adventure for me as I headed into Baltimore’s Mount Vernon, met up with Broadsheet, and ventured out onto the cold hard streets of Murder City for sushi and booze.

Dinner — which is to say “raw fish” was at the XS Cafe. This was my first time eating sushi — one could, in fact, say that I was “deflowered” of my “sushi virginity.” I would first like to say that I am not what most people would call “an avid enjoyer of seafood.” Tuna is about the limit of my seafood enjoyment, generally mixed with mayo and celery and served between two pieces of bread.

Wait, wait, I can hear you now: “So, uh, why eat sushi?”

Because I’m trying to broaden my horizons, dipshit. Why don’t you try something new, huh?

The sushi was … er, interesting. Broadsheet did the ordering. We had tuna sushi, yellowtail sushi, hot sushi, not-so-hot-but-spicy sushi, and I polished off three not-sushi Vietnamese springrolls which were, frankly, heaven. The last sushi we had — and, let’s be honest, Broadsheet is going to have to post a comment or send me an e-mail with the names of this stuff — was the best, I think it might’ve had some shrimp inside.

While I’m grateful for the opportunity to sample sushi and to learn to use chopsticks — yes, you heard right, I actually did a passingly-okay job with them — I don’t think sushi is quite a taste I could enjoy on much more than a very irregular basis (springrolls, on the other hand…)

After dinner, Broadsheet and I ventured to Brewer’s Art, a place I have often heard mentioned but yet to visit. One thing about walking through the city with Broadsheet is that she sometimes forgets her companions don’t know where she’s going, and several times she would make an abrupt turn and I’d be spinning around going, “Wait, where’d Broadsheet go… ?” The same with Brewer’s Art. I don’t know what I was expecting, except the main level seemed like it could be turned into an art museum right quickly, and the bottom level — er, I mean, the cool level — looked like it was fit for a movie set for a World War II underground bar in some ancient, occupied European city. Quite an awesome atmosphere, and if you must know, yes, I had a Resurrection.

From everything I’d heard about these mythical drinks, I was expecting a little lizard to flop around the glass in a beautifully multi-colored liquid reminiscent of some exotic nebula. So it was a little dissapointing to realize it was, in fact, only a beer. But, it was also a very good beer, and unless I miss my memory, it was also my first alcoholic drink of the New Year (although I have, get this, Beer Mustard, in my fridge).