SING US A SONG, YOU’RE THE FARTING MAN! FART US A SONG TONIGHT!
The birthday went extremely well: it was super classy right up until we walked into the Depot and I drank the proffered bucket of irish whisky. Dinner was at The Tornado and I took advantage of their Prime Rib dinner; don’t know how I got so much meat for $20 but it was worth it. Afterward we made our introductions to Graze, a new swank drinkery/eatery on the Capitol Square.
They had a cocktail made out of: vodka, club soda, Emergen-C. We ordered several rounds of them, confident and smug in the knowledge that we would NOT be hungover the next day.
And indeed, my hangover on Sunday was micro. Mini, in fact. I attended a performance of Wicked with Spacebee and her parents, and came away ‘meh.’ I appreciated the technical aspects of putting on a show like that, but the whole music and dancing didn’t appeal to me very much. Say lah vee.
I’m always trying to make this weird website a little nicer. So here’s a test of the Whazzmaster Video Broadcast System: