1. Running up Washington Blvd, the heaviness of the salty ocean air hits me like an old friend.

2. The door man at Hinano didn’t need my ID; he said, “Girl, where you been? I know them blue eyes. Get yo’ ass in there!”

3. Group hug after group hug from my Venice peeps while I caught a 3BB (three beer buzz).

4. 15-mile solo oceanside mid-afternoon bike ride on my yellow Schwinn, which I miss very much.

5. Riding my bike on Speedway in Venice just after sunset and running into at least 7 close friends within 5 minutes. That’s more than 1 friend per minute!

6. Being fed tri-tip and Austrailian wine at Theory with yet another group of awesome friends.

7. Dog-piling the couch to watch Lawrence of Arabia.

8. Being woken up at 4AM by a herd of drunks who landed near my couch.

9. The shenanigan at Barnes & Noble.

10. Taking a nap at my Mar Vista art studio.

It’s my friend Kindred Khan’s birthday. I’ve got some Bushmill’s in my pocket. I’m going to see a bunch of good friends. WooHoo! At the restaurant, I meet up with my friends Patricia and Stu. *Stu is not his real name. It’s a name he made up himself, an alter ego who gets by with much more mayhem and drunkenness than the normal – Oi! – dude. Stu is a Super-man to the local Venice bar scene, if you will. I know his day-time persona, his Clark Kent equivalent, but Stu’s secret is safe with me!* Stu’s girlfriend sent him out for ice cream this rainy night, but he’s somehow made it here with us, instead of to the store. It’s too bad she’s not here, she’s one of the friends I was hoping to see tonight.

So, Stu and Patricia and I are hanging out in the rained-out swank of the club/bar place. I’m lounging on a vinyl couch in my rain jacket in some dim red light under an industrial pop-out tent. Nice enough. I can see the rain and feel a few renegade drops, but all I hear is ambient dance music.

“Hey, check this out,” Patricia says as she hands me a menu.

I open the red and white ribboned book. It’s a bottle menu. $650.00 for a bottle of Dom and 250.00 for any flavor of Absolut. Excellent.

“Hey, check this out,” I say as I pull out the Circle of Sin and begin to pass it around.

“Excellent,” purrs Stu, who takes a pull.

“Although I’m thinking it needs a new name,” I said, “Since it’s really not shaped like a circle . . ”

Stu recaps the flask and grunts with a Spanish accent, “It is . . . the Cortez of Sin!” He beats his chest and heart with his free hand while he holds the . . . Cortez of Sin(?) . . . high in the air.

Patricia is half-Mexican descent and speaks perfect spanish. She looks confused. “What’s ‘Cortez?’” she asks.

“Oi!” says Stu still in his Conquistador-voice, “You know, the heart!”

Patricia laughs. “That’s corazon!”

“Yeah, well, Cortez was a conquistador . . . ” I offer.

“Even Better! A con-QU-ista-Dor! Who had a heart!” says Stu.

I think the verdict is still out as to the new name of this flask. Cortez was indeed a conquistador. A successful one. He destroyed the Aztec empire in the early 1500′s. So, no Cortez of Sin for me, thank you. Any suggestions on a brand name for this new flask are appreciated. Chances are if you are reading this, that someday you’ll drink from it!