Watching a bespectacled woman half my size pound a Hurricane, then jump right back into a conversation about what a douche-bag Melvil Dewey really was without missing a beat made me really warm and fuzzy inside. But I guess that is what is to be expected when the collective known as The Desk Set get together and throw a party to celebrate Mardi Gras and raise money for a school in New Orleans that's lost its library to Katrina.

As I stumbled off into the night from Daddy's in Williamsburg, I swear I heard the faint sound of a "shhh", somewhere behind me. It was then that I realized I got drunk under the table by a bunch of librarians.

Meanwhile, the DeathSet reach some sort of alcohol-stained satori whenever they approach a microphone with their guitars plugged in, which they did last Friday. Women lose their dresses, men and boys jump on top of each other, enlightenment ensues.

The question, of course, is who got more wasted, the librarians, or the punk kids?