It may be the glow from the two rye Manhattans, glass of wine and excellent rack of lamb I ate. Or perhaps the conversation with the older gentleman, Adam, I met at the bar or the bartender from Germany, Angela. But I do feel the $105 bucks I spent tonight was worth much more than the cat food donations I sent Falkie. All he did was bitch that it was the wrong type of food. #NeverADimeToFalkieTilHeEarnsIt. Angela didn't bitch about the $25 tip I left. She earned it with nice conversation about the "joys" of raising daughters. In fact she invited me back to the restaraunt and didn't ban me. I think there is a lesson in that. One that Falkie will never understand.