A french cooking blog post mentioning Fires.
Ike Turner died.
I prank called him one time.
But then my friend Nicole grabbed the phone--her phone--away.
"Work"--that is, work at the hedge fund where I spend many of my daylight hours--is essentially an afterthought in my life, so I tend not to mention it here except in passing. This week we had our infamous company winter party, though. So I will very briefly engage in the internet tradition from which I usually abstain: posting pictures of people who are "shitfaced." (Note: not all the people pictured are "shitfaced".)
w/ my friends P. and Fred, looking dour. Fred: roommate from college.
Tom, the most dapperly festive one, with other friends from yale.
w/ Tom, who began to disrobe. Five minutes after this, he smashed a glass on the floor and passed out.
w/ P., respectable.