Cold Fusion re-united at Mickey Finn's last night for another round of trivia. We dominated. We repeatedly pulled answers from out of nowhere.

Marge Simpson's last name? Andrew's got us covered (Bouvier). Obscure musical clip? Josh is on the spot ("Feels Like the First Time" by Foreigner). The O in OPEC? Right up Dave's alley (Organization). The MVP of Super Bowl XXXVIII? I'm your man (Tom Brady). Phoebe's psychologist boyfriend on Friends? Do any of us watch the show? No, but we got Roger correct anyway. Don't ask us how.

During the first three rounds (comprising eighteen questions each), we missed only three answers. (We missed a couple more during the final "flash" round.) Our prize haul at the end of the night was excellent: our table combined for six dollars off our tab, and I went home with a pint glass with "Alaskan mumble mumble ale" printed on the side (where I do not remember the text for mumble mumble).

I could have opted for a $7 gift certificate to another pub, but I chose the glass. Under my new fiscal philosophy, the $7 gift certificate wasn't much of a bargain considering I'd have to spend money on the rest of a meal. The glass, however, was free and carried no financial obligation.

Plus, it's just the kind of thing I'll come to love. It's going to be my drinking glass: water, juice, milk, soda — it'll all go in there. And it's just the sort of thing Kris'll hate. I can envision years during which I'll cherish that thing while Kris tries, in her sneaky subtle way, to place it in permanent storage.

I had a great time last night. I hadn't seen Dave in nearly a month. And because of my newfound frugality, I hadn't spent any money in a restaurant since the beginning of the year. (That changed last night: I had fish and chips, apple pie with ice cream, and a couple of drinks.) It was great to hang out with the guys.

I'm reading Steven Johnson's Mind Wide Open. In this book — which is a general survey of the modern state of brain science; it's subtitle is "Your Brain and the Nueroscience of Everyday Life" — Johnson explains why it is that people enter prolonged funks. Or, as is my case at present, are able to feed on happiness so that it becomes self-perpetuating. There's real and clear science behind the chemical reactions in our brains that explains why a person who's sad remains sad, especially if the person dwells upon her misery. (Thus the much-hated advice "Don't dwell on it" is correct if someone is trying to console you.)

Just as sadness feeds on itself, so too does happiness. Apparently our bodies produce natural opioids under certain conditions. (These opioids are not nearly as strong as those found in, say, heroin, but they're in the same family and serve the same purpose.) One of these conditions is positive social interaction. When you're together with your friends, and you're having a good time, your body is producing chemicals that give your mind a little high. As a result, you want to spend more time with your friends. Happiness and friendship are a sort of social glue.

Laughter, too, is a sort of social glue. Research indicates that laughter isn't solely a response to humor (though, of course, it is that); it's more a means of cementing social interaction. It's a bonding thing. If you laugh with somebody, you're strengthening ties.

I'm oversimplifying Johnson's points (and possibly misremembering some stuff — he covers that in his book, too), but that's okay. The book is fascinating, worth its own weblog entry. (I highly recommend it to anyone interested in how the brain works. It's easy reading.)

My point is this: I had fun last night. My good mood continues unabated.

On this day at foldedspace.org

2004 — Top Films of 2000 & 2001   Rating the top films of 2000 and 2001. Also: I reconnect with E. Alanna Malone. Toto likes tuna. Spamsieve works!

2003 — Cold Cold Heart   No matter how good the adaptation is, the film version of Cold Mountain is not going to meet my lofty expectations.