From the painful pay cuts to extra minutes in the DMV queue, the toxic side effects of "Furlough Fridays" on California state employees have been thoroughly quantified.

But furloughs on three Fridays each month are a net positive for a certain subset of state workers – the type that lives in midtown Sacramento and isn't burdened by mortgages or their children's school tuition.

They enjoy the reconfigured weekend so much that they've given it a new name: "Funlough Fridays."

"I'll take the 15 percent pay cut," said 27 year-old Dustin Davis, an analyst at the California Energy Commission. "Because free time, it's priceless."

For Davis and other young analysts at the Energy Commission, Funlough Friday starts on Thursday, around noon. One of them sends out an e-mail blast, the subject line reading along the lines of, "WHAT ARE WE DOING TONIGHT?!?!"

E-mails ping back and forth, plotting the evening's lineup.

At 5 p.m. sharp, "I start walking around the office and getting people to go to happy hour," Davis said. "It's kind of like being back in college, when we would walk around the dorms and round people up for parties."

On a recent Thursday evening, Davis and his friends started at Zócalo, a midtown restaurant. The sidewalk patio was jammed and the interior abuzz with post-work revelry.

Davis' co-worker Jesse Gage said Furlough Fridays have revolutionized his social life.

"I only started drinking after we started furloughs," he said.

Teddy-bear nice but shy, the 33-year-old said he didn't go out much. When state workers were given their own choice of furlough days, Gage still didn't go out. But the Energy Commission's young staffers finally banded together for the Thursday night rituals when everybody got furloughed on Fridays.

Because of workers like Gage and Davis, Thursday night is a new bright spot for downtown Sacramento establishments, whose business had been depressed of late.

Gage said his crowd can't afford weekend trips, but they'll gladly pony up for a night of Sacramento fun. Last Thursday, Gage said, he somehow spent $65 on a night out.

It was "completely worth it," he said.

"When there is a Furlough Friday the next day, Thursday nights are almost like a Friday night," said Paesanos restaurant manager Terra Thomas. "In the past months when there weren't furloughs, the Thursdays before were super quiet."

Paesanos and its neighboring businesses clustered around 18th and L Streets – called the Panhandle District – sponsored a series of Thursday night concerts last month.

"When I talked to other businesses we all found out we were busier on Thursdays than Friday," said Eric Heffel, owner of Yogurtagogo on L Street. "We figured because of the furloughs, if we wanted to do some marketing, it was better to do it Thursday than Friday."

A few blocks away at Mix Downtown nightclub, the patio was dominated by the suits crowd, wielding cigars, wine glasses and BlackBerrys.

"Yeah, this is pretty busy," observed owner Mason Wong, perched at the bar at 5:30 p.m. "Oh, wow, it's only 5:30? OK, this is busy, then."

Establishments like Mix Downtown with low-cost happy hour deals, such as half-off high-end appetizers like seared scallops, do well with young state workers.

At Zócalo on a recent, pre-Furlough-Friday Thursday, a waiter approached Davis and his group.

"Anybody want anything else?" he asked.

The friends looked at one another and shifted.

"No thanks, not yet," Davis said to the waiter. A second later, he asked the group: "Hey guys, where should we go next?"

Thursday may be the new Friday three times a month, but Davis and his crew still watch every penny.

"You go out more often but watch your wallet harder," said Alex Wong, another state employee in the group. "I'm ordering a lot of water when I go out."

The shift to Thursday nights out has rendered Furlough Fridays almost an afterthought for many.

On a recent Friday off, Gage went to Chipotle, at 18th and Capitol, where state workers ate free on several furlough days in October. The line wound around the block.

"It's like a soup kitchen here," said Gage, who had brought board games with him. He lingered at Chipotle for a few hours with friends before moseying over to a nearby park.

Fridays, he said, are now for errands and hobbies. Gage has picked up amateur photography.

For others, it's an extra day for leisurely pursuits: There's been an increase in the number of golfers teeing up at Haggin Oaks Golf Complex on Fridays, said Mike Woods, the course's golf professional.

And state engineer Steve Zelinka bought a puppy because he finally had the time for one. The 31-year-old named it Furlo.

"I try to play with him a lot every Furlough Friday," he said. "And I walk him around town so I can meet new female friends."

Singles aren't the only ones seemingly unfazed by the forced time off.

"I'm using my furlough days so I can take care of my new baby instead of sending her to day care," said Brianna Gossard, who works for the state Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. "I'd rather spend time with her."

Leave it to the young and unencumbered, however, to bask in a day of hangover nothingness.

"I'm useless on Fridays," Davis said, pondering his laundry or a trip to the drugstore. "I get so excited about Thursdays that on Fridays, it's zombie mode."

Call The Bee's Anna Tong, (916) 321-1045.