Here is the B.PAPM gang (or most thereof) at Formal on Friday. This was before a few people arrived, but it gets the gist: fun people, unintimidating venue, and indifferent catering. You can't see how bad the DJ was, and that's lucky for you. Actually, he went over the edge into kitsch, so everyone could enjoy the tunez.
This has been a week of very little work. But that's OK, I needed a break. Tuesday night I went to Jacob's for a wee party at his place (lots of fun, though I hate hate hate my allergies) and then Wednesday some of the B.PAPM gals came over to our place. Now all I have to do today is write two essay outlines and pack for tomorrow's road trip extraordinaire. And it's only four-thirty! Ample time. Also, I don't have to cook tonight because we have five square miles of leftover eggplant parmesan to eat.
OK, so: tomorrow at this time I will be preparing to go to the concert venue. Whee. I have decided that in order to include the rather awesome opening band, the Cribs, the event can be rechristened Crib Death for Franz Ferdinand. It's really morbid, but then everyone gets to participate. Katherine has been telling me tales of her friend Dan who we are staying with. He has an African giant millipede! I like him already.
This is going to rock hard, folks. Stay tuned for the photo essay thrills to come! 'Cause the only thing I like better than a road trip is a well-documented road trip.
3 comments:
My god we're good looking.
P.S. I also love how we are the only two in the entire picture that don't have dates. Thanks again for being my red-hot escort!
You are most welcome! We ARE unbelievably beautiful, aren't we? We can have the ceremonial discussion of how our program is prettier than most now, if you like.
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