Saturday, April 08, 2006
The Return of Random Pictures
We had the final performance for the show I wrote part of last night. I have to admit that, after five weeks of devoting Fridays to watching the same sketches I've seen approximately ten thousand times since October, I was not too tragically sad to have it end. I was, however, pleased to host an impromptu cast party, featuring beer bought by other people and left in my fridge. (I'm doubly excited at the prospect of moving with beer later this week.)
Have you ever noticed how I love to make weird faces in pictures? Here, I was going for "alarmed," but I think I just came up with "crazy." This is shortly before Sherman, Brian, and I did shots of bourbon, which would have hilarious consequences.
Megan also enjoys challenging the boundaries of how we think people ought to look in photographs. Note how Roommate Liz and I have placed the photo of our law school graduation on our bar, which we consider the center of our home.
We were the writers who actually got along, and Laura and Caitlin are STILL trying to strangle me and Brett. Anything for more stage time, I suppose.
We had the final performance for the show I wrote part of last night. I have to admit that, after five weeks of devoting Fridays to watching the same sketches I've seen approximately ten thousand times since October, I was not too tragically sad to have it end. I was, however, pleased to host an impromptu cast party, featuring beer bought by other people and left in my fridge. (I'm doubly excited at the prospect of moving with beer later this week.)
Have you ever noticed how I love to make weird faces in pictures? Here, I was going for "alarmed," but I think I just came up with "crazy." This is shortly before Sherman, Brian, and I did shots of bourbon, which would have hilarious consequences.
Megan also enjoys challenging the boundaries of how we think people ought to look in photographs. Note how Roommate Liz and I have placed the photo of our law school graduation on our bar, which we consider the center of our home.
We were the writers who actually got along, and Laura and Caitlin are STILL trying to strangle me and Brett. Anything for more stage time, I suppose.
