This is what happens when Wonkette buys Washingtonienne "a" drink at 6PM: We didn't get home until 1AM. The evening began at the Four Seasons and ended in a suburban Virginia farmhouse. We did not, in the end, have to buy any of our own drinks. Pictures were taken. A cell phone was lost. This morning, Mr. Wonkette made us scrambled eggs. Now, can we move on?
(P.S.: Top that, Leiby.)