I Gotta Say It Was a Good Day

          I slept in until 2 and rose with a classic Andy "I just feel kind of gross" hangover, and spent much of the day putting in work with Sean on apartment cleanliness. In the evening, Alaric and I walked out to the (former) 616 girls' place on St. Alphonsus Street to celebrate Lauren's 20th birthday. All told, we numbered ten: Lauren, Alaric, Ryan, Meredith, Lauren B, Laura, Shannon, Sarah, a friend named Hannah, and me. I had a good deal of fun just hanging out and playing a great party game called Imaginiff, wherein the players compare each other to inanimate objects, abstract concepts, etc. During one vote in which the group was asked which of us is most likely to be a werewolf, I scooped nine of ten votes, with Sarah taking the stray. Meredith claims that it's because I'm hairy and have a mysterious personality; I have a hunch it's probably just the hair. After some time, Alaric and I excused ourselves and took a leisurely walk home, smoking a cigar along the way. (I've forgotten to mention that he has a goodly box of Cubans from this summer.) We sat on the curb on Coventry to finish it off, and fended off glares from a froglike woman sitting in a nearby vehicle. We were presently subject to a powerful head rush, and things only improved from there.