Hi, my name is Ian Abston. I'm not from Milwaukee originally but I love it here. I love it so much, that I want to show you where I like to go and why.

This is my first of a regular series of blogs about my Milwaukee life. Don't expect big words but also don't get mad if you wear those man capris to a bar and I call you out on in a future blog.

Feel free to comment using the Talkback feature, but don't hate if you're the one going to bed at 9 p.m. I truly love this city and this is what I do.

As a "young professional" growing up on the East Side of Milwaukee, my weekend always begins on Thursday. I still make it to work every Friday by 8 a.m. with a forced smile and a can-do-ish attitude. I may still smell a bit like scotch, or grind my teeth loudly while battling with an expense report, but darn it -- I'll get the job done.

A recent Thursday was a late one. Brady Street is within walking distance of our house so off we went to the Hi Hat Garage to see what the "mug of the week" was. For those of you unfamiliar with the "magical mug of the week" let me bring you up to speed. You walk up to the Garage, slap down $5, and a magically full pint of beer is thrust into your hands. Each week the special changes -- so, like it or not -- you always have to stop in just to see what this week holds.

I buy a round for the roommates and we all wait eagerly. What's it going to be this week? I'm thinking about a Lakefront IPA, Spotted Cow, maybe Left Hand Amber, or even a nice dark stout. The anticipation builds while we banter like school girls about the possibilities that await us. Here she comes! The beer is in our hands, the lift, the sip...and...Schlitz. Damn. Have to try back next week.

After nursing the seemingly bottomless mug we've decided to meet up with a few cats at Joe Cats. Apparently, sometime after that pint-0-Schlitz and the walk across the street, I managed to also slip on the trusty dancing shoes. We barely had time to grab a drink before we were whisked onto the dance floor by a bachelorette party. We crammed ourselves in and started grooving to a select few of Michael Jackson's finest, followed by some Sublime, Oasis, and then a bit more MJ. I don't think they've changed the playlist since I've moved to the East Side which works to my advantage when we bet drinks on the next songs.

One of the bridesmaids was giving me the "buy me a drink" eyes so I made an impulse decision to shimmy on over to her side of the dance floor. Conversation didn't seem like an appropriate intro at this point so I went for my best disco pose to get her attention. I assume the general dude disco stance and proceed to fling my bottle of beer all over one of her friends. Fail! I quickly dance it off like nothing happened but there was really no digging my way out of this hole.

Post Brady Street, I was dying for a Turkey Tom from Jimmy Johns. I fought back the temptation for the JJ's nightcap and opted to keep my wallet closed for the night. I feel a sense of responsibility rush through me as I'm headed back to my house for a full night's sleep so I can be ready for work tomorrow.

At the age of 25, I'm beginning to realize the affect alcohol has on my body the morning after a few cocktails and I've decided to take preventative measure. No, I don't cut myself off, take hangover pills, or even drink less. My solution is to slam as much water as can fit into my beer filled belly without wetting the bed.

During my purification session, the roomies arrived to find me in the kitchen ripping down water and about to pour myself a bowl of cereal. Someone mentioned Toppers and the call went out for a double order of bacon sticks before I even finished my glass.

Bacon sticks, these guys have quadruple bypass written all over them. The best part about the delivery is that the box came with a flyer for a membership to 24-hour fitness. Barking up the wrong tree Mr. Marketing Guy. We make quick work of our second dinner and wipe the grease off our table with the fitness flyer.

Wake at the crack of 7 a.m. Friday to grab a Hodag breakfast sandwich and Coffee from Koppa's on Farwell. We play a little Atari while we wait for the tattooed lady at the counter to fill the order. Four minutes later she hands over a carefully wrapped package of greasy heaven. Atari, coffee, Hodag, the day has begun. We're off to the office. And, I still have two more weekend nights left!