Molly Malone, it could have been lovely.

I finally got my lazy self motivated to drive out to Molly Malone's, a pub in L.A., to see Reeve Carney perform (a few of my friends have been raving about him). Just as we arrive, it occurs to me that I don't have a single form of identification on me. But I'm not close to 21 anymore, so there's a good chance they won't card me, right? And they didn't card the couple in front of me (though they clearly weren't spring chickens). Doorman from Alabama asks for my I.D., and that was the end of my night. Hey, it was a nice drive to and from L.A. though. Reeve will have to wait for me until next week.