Happy Birthday, Captain

This past weekend, I took the Captain out for his birthday (he's 63 or something like that). Some of my friends came along - "Gus Buskansky," "Anastasia BeaverHausen," and "Anastasia's man." (No real names here!) We pre-funked with some jaeger and vodka (really shouldn't have), then went for dinner and a show of the pole-dancing variety, and just as I was thinking, 'oh good, i don't see anybody i recognize,' I meet the gaze of someone from my E-law class (no, not the funkster, although I would have been less surprised). He shrugged his shoulders and put his arms up in the air as if to say, 'where the hell am I? I don't know how I got here!'

Then we got a ride from a methadone-addicted cabbie to Devil's Point and watched some freaky go-go dancer chick rap group with about a hundred other people. At some point Gus disappeared to go have a spaz attack in the parking lot, but Gus was eventually found and the Captain and I hitched a ride home. It was a fun night - one that my parents would be proud to read about, I'm sure.

p.s.
In class this week, E-law introduced himself and said he doesn't know why everybody asks him where to find some good steak and tits.