Nine Sixteen Oh Six

Here are the pictures from my birthday party. I apologize in advance for the blurriness. I temporarily forgot what a flash is used for. Maybe we can consider them some sort of abstract art for the time being.















Those who came, came with their invitations and were hastily rewarded.















We played a game some call "nuts on a log," others call "redneck golf," and yet others prefer the nomenclature "cornhole." Drew is in the back, fetching a pitcher of Founder's Pale Ale with such veracity that he is blurred and nearly indistiguishable. Fetch that pitcher, Drew. Fetch it with speed.




















Here is Toni, enjoying the hell out of Cornhole.















Toni was also celebrated at the party. Her birthday is 9-11. I do not know when Sara's birthday is, but I assume she just as well had a good time at the party.















There was food. A lot of food. Too much, in fact. The chocolate zucchini cake and fig tartlets had yet to be served and already the guests were filling to capacity.















Dave demonstrates how they eat things on the east side. The next day, Toni would show us what sweatshirts they wear there.















What good is a birthday party with out a session of butt-jumping on your own bed with Dave?















Dave enjoys bed jumping just as much as he enjoys beer. Actually, he enjoys beer more.















Sara and Dave had a good time at my party...I remember having to break up their smooching session once or twice.















This is a picture of me asleep. My face is always like that, even asleep. Don't make fun of me. I was born like that.