Put kids to bed. Meet buddy for a late drink at The Usual. Have some random dude approach and discuss whether you’re really getting the full benefits out of the Platinum Card you used to open the bar tab. Politely listen to him ramble about his Starwood Preferred Amex, then politely disengage. Shortly thereafter, have another random dude approach and discuss your Allen Edmonds shoes at length. Regret your failure to apply random dude repellent.

Resolve to find new bar. Attempt to post a check-in on Facebook which you believe is hilarious but is probably just cranky. Fail to notice that the check-in mysteriously never shows up. Nevertheless, receive grief from your buddy for posting on Facebook.

Move to The Chat Room. Have random acquaintance of your buddy buy you both a mystery shot. Graciously drink shot only to learn that it prominently featured peach schnapps. Experience instantaneous swelling of your hate gland. Attempt to post second cranky check-in on Facebook, which also somehow fails to show up.

Watch Buddy play pool with Ted Kaczynski’s less hygenic grandpa. Realize that the only creatures more uncomfortable than yourself in this loud, smoke-filled bar are the two dogs that are forced to stand by as their coed masters engage in what can only be described as jump dance fighting.

Remember that there is an entire bag of that awesome cheddar popcorn at home and a new episode of Archer on the DVR. Retreat to the vehicle that your kids have named “Toothless” after the black dragon in that How To Train Your Dragon movie, but which you steadfastly refer to as The Highlander because Dreamworks animated movies are for shit other than Shrek and maybe Kung Fu Panda.

Blast “Ridin Dirty” through your sleepy neighborhood. Get home and fill a entire pitcher of water to drink in an effort to stave off a hangover. Forget to drink any of the water. Inhale bag of popcorn in front of the TV and pass out on the couch. Be woken at 4AM by your wife, who is holding your toothbrush – to which she has already applied toothpaste.

Ask your wife what she thought of your check-ins on Facebook. Have her tell you that there were no check-ins. Insist that there were, and laugh at her inability to use the internet.

Climb into bed grumbling about peach schnapps, and people who bring dogs to bars, and dudes who cup their cigarettes indoors, and how Allen Edmonds are fine shoes but seriously? Be shushed by wife.

Insist that this weekend, you’ll be bringing your “A” game.