Fuzzy happy holiday haze. You are going to a party where there will be people you like. These same people also seem to like you. You like these situations because there is always some kind of uproarious laughter and this is good. You could spend days listening to the beautifully clear sound of your friends laughing. You know you are lucky to be around them, here at this party, so you do a lot of laughing and a lot of smiling. Sometimes you laugh so hard you can barely stop the beer from spouting out your nose.


On the way to the party, these are the things you will see:

Whatever you are paying for a haircut, you are paying too much. Unless you are going here.











How do you negotiate these? It's like an obstacle course of tamale carts.











Ham.












Cheese. Knives to cut the cheese. Cut the cheese.










Beyond this rain encrusted window is a large group of humans all of whom look as though they have yet to venture through puberty. This is outside the Aragon, which means tomorrow, I'll be able to look up what or who was playing and then find out that THIS is what that band's demographic looks like. For the record, no one seemed wasted or particularly obnoxious. But still. You know. There were a lot of them. And NO ONE HAD ANY ZITS!












Seriously, ocifer, I took a cab. Yeah. It's all good.