Yes, The Ford's getting back to speed after a long-ish vacation. (Though you might now know it from The Ford's first attempt to spell "speed": spped.)

Nevertheless, he's finally getting some sleep, and when he's not getting the sleep, he's compensating with the beer.

Thus, the things he's learned from a night at The Official Bar:

1.) Women are always allowed to sit on the bar-type surface. That is, if they're vaguely hot, obviously drunk, and surrounded by dudes. Well, vaguely hot, in a Danica Patrick way, which is to say, not hot by objective standards, but hot when you're staring at a bar filled with dudes and/or bartenders from other bars and/or married waitresses.
This may not make sense to the women who read The Official Blog, but, really, "attractiveness" is a constantly subjective standard, depending on availability, alcohol consumed, (by both parties) and attire. In short, on any given Official Bar night, Angelina Jolie/Jessica Alba/Scarlett Johannson/Marilyn Monroe might not get as much attention as the sub-par Paris Hilton lookalike down the street. Especially if she's hanging out with three guys at once. It's like a live version of Elimidate, but without the snarky subtitles.
In short, it's not you, it's us. Sorry about that.

2.) Few things are more emasculating as catching a woman's German beer mid-spill just as you realize she's making out with one of the three guys she entered the bar with.
It's not like The Ford was making a move on said gal, but still, saving some other guy from getting drenched with beer as he's getting some drunken-gal action is not why The Ford drinks. He drinks to get himself some of the drunken-gal action. And you knew this.
The only folks appreciating The Ford at this point? The dude, and the bartender.

3.) A tiger would SO beat a gopher in an even fight. Unless you give the gopher home-field advantage, complete with gopher holes, in which case the gopher might have a chance to wait out the tiger. Easily the second-dumbest argument The Ford has participated in, sober or drunk. What's the dumbest? Glad you asked, dear reader...

4.) Kool Aid Man would destroy Tony the Tiger in a fight, if only because Kool Aid Man has both the ability to crash through walls (great strength/structural integrity) and a seemingly limitless supply of blood (or Kool Aid, depending on what lets you sleep easier at night.)

5.) Along the lines of "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," but completely opposite in meaning, The Ford presents this maxim of the bars: "The promise of flashed breasts beats the guarantee of Internet porn later." OK, it's lacking the poetical nature of the original, but it seems oddly appropriate on a night of great celebration for The Ford. (What, you thought The Ford would pimp out The Official Newspaper when he's got others to do it for him?)

Things he has not learned:

1.) Whether a voucher for "one free head seccion" is actually a viable IOU, considering a.) the obvious drunkeness of the female IOU-provider; and b.) the poor spelling of said female.
Thankfully (or not, The Ford hasn't decided...), it's not The Ford's problem, but that of the bartender. (One might think preventing a massive beer spillage would provoke the transfer of siad IOU, but then one would not obviously understand the value of said IOU.)

2.) Why anyone living "downriver" in Metro Detroit -- code for "the poor suburbs" -- would choose to drink downtown. 'Cause, let's face it, drinking downtown is pretty awesome -- why else would The Ford have embraced it so totally? -- but the prospect of driving 20 minutes home via various freeways that may or may not be shut down pretty much sucks.

3.) Why the Tigers seem completely incapable of winning on nights the White Sox lose. Granted, this might be because the White Sox are a great team, while the Tigers are playing over their heads, but then again, it's not like the Sox are pulling away. They just seem to sit about 1/2 a game ahead of the Motor City Kitties constantly, a vaguely infuriating situation to a certain blogger who was rooting both against the White Sox mid-week while they were playing the Mariners and for the Tigers, who were unable to gain ground in games against the Angels and Twins.

4.) Why The Ford is a target for gals on MySpace gals like this one. OK, The Ford actually has a pretty good idea; he just wanted to point out something to all the other "ladies" who are going to spam him on MySpace: If you're gonna try and become friends with dudes, at least have friends who are women. 'Cause, knowing what little he does about the fairer sex, The Ford's pretty much instantly suspicious of women with 82 friends, all of whom are male. At least fake the appearance of female friends. The Ford will feel much better about ogling your pics. At least, when he's not at work. In short? Nice work, "Jenn." Other than the obivous porn link, you held The Ford's interest for about 15 seconds.

5.) Of all the stupid stats The Ford has noticed -- and he's noticed a lot, being the sports geek that he is -- why is one of them that no June Playmate has ever been named Playmate of The Year?
Oh, and while we're at it, how in the hell is the 2006 Playmate of The Year being named in May? May? May!
There's still, um, at least 6 months before we can reasonably talking about any year-end awards. This sort of "schedule inflation" if how The Ford is now induring ads for 2007 car models and pondering his choices in the 2008 presidential election.
C'mon. Let's stop and smell the roses. It's 2006, folks. That's pretty sweet. Even with Conan still stuck "in the year 2000," we're doing all right. TiVo, iPod, SportsCenter... hell, if nothing else, we're living in a capitalization paradise. Let's not worry about the nest Playmate of The Year for now, at least until we start calling her the PlayMate of The Year.

(Also interesting? Neither a former Playmate of The Year, nor a stock analyst for Yahoo's MarketWatch -- another triumph of mid-2000s capitalitization -- were able to pick the winner of the Kentucky Derby. The Ford's shocked. SHOCKED. Honest.)