16
May 2004
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It was one year ago yesterday that Al and Chris lost everything to an apartment fire. And so they figured, rightly so, what better way to recognize the first anniversary than by gathering all their friends for tequila and beer? And it was awesome. The Chaos drove over from La. Pam and Stee flew in from L.A. T and her C were there, as well as one of Al's Alabama choir friends and her husband and their delicious baby, Crawfish Pie. We ate tamales, drank margartias, raised our glasses in honor of Saint Murphy and, yes, we shed a few a tears.
Al, Hannah, Stee, AB and the Pie
I'm thinking,
Master V is giving the thumbs up for MATH+1.
At one point everyone was exchanging engagement rings and wedding bands and AB and I tried them all on. I was going to try and point out whose was whose, but you know, maybe you should just guess. (I also don't know why it looks like I have only three fingers.)
Pam used the MOC's
wedding band as a monocle. Arr. After dinner we walked next door to the scene of the crime. For some reason, the fence was open in front of the parking lot, so we were able to walk down to where the buildings used to stand.
We threw rocks so that our feelings would be known. Take that! I wish I'd had a 40. Murphy would've liked that.
Afterwards we walked up Peachtree Road to the City Tavern, where we played darts and pool and watched the Spurs lose. On the way there I stopped into the Swifty to buy a pack of replacement cigarettes for AB. When did they get to be $4? Who knew? (Also, I'm not normally a smoker, but there's some chemical or something that AB puts off that makes it nearly impossible for me to not smoke in her presence. The fact that the "replacement pack" was empty a few hours later is proof enough of her evilness.)
But so is this. Chris is about to kill a man.
Chris, Pam and AB
I have no idea who won.
She looks cute, but
remember, she is EVIL.
Hannah and Allison.
Boys.
Girls.
Throwing MATH+1 hands.
"I wish the Spurs would just win so we could leave." Finally the Spurs lost, and we left. And then, inexplicably, we spent a million years in the parking lost playing hacky with a loofah and AB did gymnastics. Neither of those statements are code for something else.
Vince's man purse was too heavy for him to carry alone.
They're not on fire.(Although that would've been an interesting way to end the Burning Down the House party.) That's just a look into their souls.
"Don't let her fall, Stee! Don't let her fall!"
She fell.
Somehow it always ends like this.
The notify knows about Weight Challenged.
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