I saw a girraffe poop yesterday. How did YOU fight the terrorists this weekend?

In other news, I have entered my last week of being 23. I'm not particularly frightened of 24, but it has some finite quality about it that's a bit unnerving. So I'm throwing a balls to the wall party this weekend in defiance of this looming step further into adulthood. If you didn't get the invite then I probably don't have your email address, and for that, I apologize. Let me know if you can come and I'll forward you the info. If I like you. If not then I'll send you on a wild goose chase into the bowels of the city that will eventually lead you to the seedy underbelly of Chicago better known as Carroll's biker bar where surly Harley riding bouncers will threaten you with switchblades for standing too close to the door.
The party's this Saturday the 26th at our apartment. Be there or be flattened like a pancake by Roscoe the Bouncer's beefy forearm.