Mike makes it to 11 p.m.

Went to Mike's 24th birthday party this Saturday, and it was a blast! It was a sangria- and tapas-filled dinner, and as you can see from the above picture, Mike was especially excited about the sangria.

During dinner, the increasingly sloshed Mike accosted a neighboring table of bachelorettes ("B!tches! Wh*res! You have no men with you! Look at my men! Look at them!"), gave his own toast, and led us into a round of "Happy Birthday to Mike."


Then back to Mike's place for more drinking, singing, and drunken hilarity (generally committed by Mike). I managed to stop him from knocking over his roommate's lamp, though I wasn't able to save his carpet (and Sarim's jacket) from wine spillage.

Good singalong quote: "It's always raining b!tches in my room!" - Mike

Here's me and Esther having a grand old time! This is toward the end of the evening, when we were getting ready to leave. Esther and I joined Mike in his room for a short singalong to "I Will Survive," when I noticed a large amount of white fluffy stuff on his bed.

Val: What's that white stuff on Mike's bed?
Esther: ...Drugs?

Anyway, we never found out what the white fluffy stuff was, but we're reasonably sure it wasn't drugs. As the night wore on, Mike appeared to be losing steam until suddenly, during a heartfelt rendition of "American Pie," Mike plopped over onto his bed. He had surpassed most bets that he would pass out before 11 p.m. (by about five minutes).

So happy birthday, Mike — we need to do this more often, I haven't laughed so hard in years.

In other news, Jen Jen is coming home from Europe today! Yay! Welcome back to Chicagoland, you world traveler, you!