...about

So who is Jeremy Razzano? Well, picture a nightclub. Some place nice, with wood panelling and palm trees in tasteful clay pots. Oh, and picture it somewhere warm. Now, over there by the bar is a gentleman, well dressed and sporting a fad-friendly haircut. He's the type of guy who tips his waitress well, is careful with his recycling, and always stops to help an old lady change her tire. In his hand is one of those drinks your father would approve of, which he is sipping slowly and with grace. But manly, machismo grace. Not that sissy sort of grace.

Got it in your head?

Now, imagine suddenly this other guy, drunk to the nines, runs into him. His drink is spilled and the drunkard is obviously distressed over the loss. He proceeds to apologize to the alocohol gods and sacrifices a martini and several olives in their name. And then goes on to blame the floor, the moon, the jukebox and the Man until he's dragged away by the bouncer and several fine officers of the local police.

That drunk guy, he's me.