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2004-11-01 - 8:20 p.m.

The night has fallen and my eyelids are not far behind, but before the slumber of ages falls over me, I must fulfill my promise and offer up the following pictorial of the previous weekend. Venture forth good reader and be prepared for visions more than capable of turning one's knees into a gelatin like product.

My Halloween adventure began as almost all evenings do, happily straddled over a barstool watching the wonder that is closed captioned Simpsons while being plied with liquor by a bar staff beyond par. It takes a level of trust so many of us ignore, to take in one’s favorite reality blurring intoxicant without worrying about a certain level of tampering. But in such a reputable establishment as this, I fear not. After all, my fate is placed squarely within the hands to these two reputable figures.

Properly socially lubricated I meander my way to a costume party held by the be-gloved individuals worshipping at the feet swing. With the air and tenor of the nineteen forties floating through the air, the conversation turns immediately to such highly regarded topics as the shooting of darts from one’s unmentionables and what Freud would have to say about a bow tie.

In this stew, I made my appearance doing my best to attire myself according to period, to a certain level of success. With Spin Doctors playing a private rotating session within the bounds of my temples I sauntered my way in, mumbling…”Gee Mr. White, if Lois and Clark get all the good stories I’ll never be a good reporter!”

My place as the least photogenic man alive still holds.

Adding insult to injury: The current view from the webcam above this café computer:

And thus the pictorial ends. The words will begin again, shortly after I gather enough sleep to find them.

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