Do the math, it's really not a difficult equation.
Three-quarters of a bottle of Maker's Mark + a day of debauchery with friends = one very drunk NewBoy.

Shortly after I finished my rant last night about NewBoy, and turned my computer off, my phone rang. It was a VERY intoxicated NewBoy. He wasn't quite Tucker Max Drunk, but he was in that "charming" stage of intoxication. You know, he's really cute when he's drunk. I won't call him out too badly, but let me share a few of the stellar tidbits of the conversation.

-h.: Jesus, NewBoy! How much did you drink? Are you OK?

NB: I's dunno. Sumthin like [unintelligible mumble] whiskeeey. I like
whiskey.

NB: I don git it. Why do you like me? I'm an ash-hole. A total
[unintelligible] ash-hole.

NB: Why can't yeew come over here? I need a nap. A big, long,
nap.

NB: Yeew know whut? Yeew are soooo cute. Soooo [unintelligible]
cute.

NB: So this NewBoy guy. He's a bitch. He's all like mister sensitive and
shit, an' he's a GAP pink sweater wearin [unintelligible] ash-hole.

OK, now that I've had my fun with him, let me just tell you how he totally made my day today. My phone rang at 6-something (after the first round of snooze-button-smashing). I looked at the caller ID, and it was NewBoy, calling to tell me good morning, and that he hoped I had a great day. Ordinarily, this wouldn't rate much of a blip on a woman's radar ... but this was extraordinary because today is his day off. And he, by all rights, should have one hell of a hangover. Impressive that he woke up early enough to call me. Awwww.

Oh, crap. (said in my best American Teen Princess voice) I'm smitten. If he keeps this up, I'm in big trouble. This place has went from being a palace of raunch to being a freaking sappy soap opera. I need to do something about that ... and damned soon.