For the MP3 fans, be advised that I won't be posting any this week. No time.

If you're interested in sometimes witty observations of the nightlife, keep reading.

Anyhow, my friend friend and former roommate (as we like to say, we make great friends and flat-out miserable roommates) Reagan took the Bar last week. Since she hadn't left the law school library in months, I took her to see Mardo open for Metal Skool last night. We didn't actually see Metal Skool on account of the fact that would entail staying out late and, well, I have deadlines to meet. Mardo is of the 1970s-style balls-out rock ilk (not so much like Wolfmother, though, because, personally, I think the music is more Slade than Sabbath). I had a feeling that Reagan would love the show because she is the Queen of Rock. Dude, that call was so on the money. She loved every second of the set and probably would have bought a CD too if the band had set up a merch booth.

I don't know who played after Mardo, but it wasn't all that. Reagan hated it. I just thought, yeah, whatever. We left midway through Band #2's set because we were tired and we weren't really feelin' the crowd (were Reagan and I really the only girls there who weren't Alpha Phi?). We were, however, feelin' the little TV screens in the bathroom mirrors and the kick-ass ensemble on the bathroom attendant. She had this billowy plaid skirt over a denim mini that totally reminded me of an Alexander McQueen dress that should belong to me, not Sarah Jessica Parker.

On a sad note, we spent an hour trying to get off the freeway because Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young is apparently still on the touring circuit.