Sunday and No Alcohol in Sight

J. I think we're going to swing by a store on the way home -- what do you want to drink?

K. But we still have the two bottles of vodka from the pickles-vodka-rye-toast-with-butter night? And a teensy bit of gin? And the Bass bottle of beer Jesse left us?

J. Hrm.

N., in the background. MrrumSundaysunday!

J. [voice dull] It's Sunday.

K. [just started to get thirsty for some Upland Wheat]. oh. damn.

This is how J. and I ended up eating:
gnocchi with shredded Pere Jacques [Belgian Trappist Monk cheese] on top, smothered in a redwine garlic olive oil creamy sauce with broccoli bits, cherry tomatoes, israeli cracked black olives, and avocado chunks.

and drinking:
Cold Budweiser, courtesy of gentleman friends's fridge.

Classy dames, yes, yes we are. There are a quarter bottles of red lying about, but what with the heat, we suspect they've past their point of consumption sober or not in foods. These things do happen.