A Little Furry

'Furry' - that's how Ian, my Irish friend whom some of you may have met, describes a hangover. Hungover I am. Note to self - eat massive meal before going to Cardozo's after work on Friday. I regret nothing. I can't remember everything that happened at Continental, but I'm trying to piece it together with the photographs.

First, Joe was like, 'Hey, isn't that Paris Hilton?'

Rudy and Jason were like, 'Yeah, she just bought us this Courvasier!'

And I was like, 'Who did what now?' And that blonde lady in the background was like 'This High Life is delicious, but that man in the henley is a mite pungent.'


The bar was very dark, but then Zeman's head lit the place up like Christmas!

Even with Zeman's head-light I couldn't see Paris. I yelled at Joe: 'I dunna see Parish you jerk-ash....five dollars?....this limey drink is shweet...'


Then I yelled at Zeman: 'That sweater makes you so huggable! How bout you sleep on my futon tonight? You gotta put some sack-cloth over that noggin, though - I don't sleep with a night-light.' He tried to avoid me for the rest of the night'.


Then I remembered what Joe told me: 'I'll kill you for lying to me! I don't see Nicole Ritchie anywhere - just coked up hipsters!'


Finally Joe calmed me down the only way he knew how. 'Have another limey drink on me, older brother.' I sputtered, 'But I'm so angry...and you lied...and...glug glug glug...what was I angry about?' Then Erich said 'Say cheese!' and I had forgotten the whole thing already!