We went to the party around 7:45. I was running late because I was having OCD moments while getting ready. Nothing looked right. Was this outfit too dressy? Does my face look hideous? Can you see where my gum is receding over that porcelain crown (my newest anxiety)? Jeff told be I was beautiful, like he usually does. Whether he believes it or not, in my mind it's like 'yes, dear,' something he'd say just to hurry me along. That may not be his intent, but there you go.

The party was as usual, except for a smaller crowd. I was entertained, and met a cool lady who is a customer at Jeff's shop. She's been married to her musician husband for 13 years, and was alone because he was performing. I think she was in her mid 30s, but I'm not sure. There was also a guy there who recently lost his wife to a stroke. Jeff said he thought he was in his 50s, but he looked to be in his 60s or older. He acted like a young man, though, drinking and flirting with all the ladies. I think he's normally a 'dirty old man,' but some of that may have been part of the grieving process.

I took two bottles of La Fin Du Monde, which is a product of Canada. As one couple was asking me what I was drinking while pouring myself another cup, there was an almost incident. I said I thought it was from France, and then we looked at the bottle. "Oh, Canada." His wife said, "Well, it's a by-product of France." You know, in a huff like anyone who's up Dubya's ass. I almost said, "GOOD!" but refrained.

All in all it was ok. There were no references to vegetables feeling pain or fish not being meat, and we went home shortly after midnight. I spilled half of the half bottle of beer in my car because the cork thing his boss's wife gave me was a piece of shit. My car still smells slightly of stale beer.