last night's fiasco was a good time; carla's birthday was the event. phase one was the rendezvous at our apartment for, you know, cocktails & shots. jenny had really straightened the place up; very nice. jason apparently was completely unaware of...anything regarding me? you have swords? you have titanium plates? you have a secret base in a mountain beneath the surface of the atlantic ocean? is that a coffin? eventually the trickling in was finished & phase two went into motion: project bogata. bartender lorenzo! do i know him through bernie? i am not sure! i was befuddled, & when i came out later to talk to him he had gone home. everyone passed their plates around like a motherfucker, & the sangria was without fangs. no fangria! they cooked the steak with coffee for the crust, & i thought that was fun. i thought i was going to yell at the high school kids for being jack-asses, but it turned out to be good natured fun, & they ate most of the cake. it wasn't much of a birthday cake, though- at the bakery i asked them to put "congratulations carla five years sober" on it, but it was too small, & the lady was like "usually we just put "five years," & i couldn't be like "no, it has to say five years sober because carla is an alcoholic." but the spirit was there. we lost some of the group then, but phase three was the return to the apartment segment of the evening. there was a bit of tramping around the neighborhood (since...all the delis stopped selling beer?) but then it was costume-dress-up & dance-party fever up in here. hemmoraged some more folks but kept going. put on the darth vader mask.