Grant, T, Carol, and I saw "Native Son" down in Seattle Center. It was pretty good, but we were too hyped for the fiesta about to come:

The man, the myth, the legend:

The decor of the dead:

Dead chocolates:

Homemade peanut brittle, salsas, and a dead beer:

Dorothy even showed up, dead:

Beavis and Butthead are dead:

Tadie, the vibrating dog (he had some ill batwings on):

Meow:

Me and Bridge keepin' it tight:

Kat is almost dead for the night:

Got so fucked up we were kissin' dogs and shit. Braden and man's best friend:

T'was the Nightmare Before Christmas:

Braden and his damn Monster Mash:

Time to split:

As you can tell, it was a celebration bitch! BLT kept it real, and grant and I supplied the booze - that's the drill, Phil. If you don't, you should celebrate this fantastic holiday merely because I told you to. It's a great reason to get the gang together and party like Eric Estrada, and hell, what's a Wednesday night without a little liquid-help over that hellish hump of the week? Hopefully the Dia de los Muertos party will fall on a Tuesday night next year, it'll be interesting to see how we justify getting fucked off our tits on the most uneventful day of the week. Adios amigo!

1 comment:
rude, my face has yet to grace the blog? i'm hurt, not gonna lie. I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING HERE, JAMES!
signed,
elizabeth
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