Piece Out, Part 2

Finally Blogger is cooperating. Here are the remainder of the pictures.

This one was relatively early in the night, when the shots first started to rear their sweet, delicious, ugly heads. Jessie's already so drunk she can barely keep her eyes open. Tana seems quite excited about the whole situation.
As you can see, the shots took their toll on Tana and Ari, so they switched back to beer. I assume they are trying to sing along to the guy who butchered Def Leppard's "Photograph." Brian can do nothing but laugh.

Here are a couple more shots of my earth-shattering performance of "I Believe In a Thing Called Love." The first merely shows me mesmerizing the crowd with a shrill wail. The second seems to be circumstantial proof that Jessie approved of my antics. Hoop earrings on the left there, however, seemed not to even notice me. That hurts.

After Ari, Alex, and Brian's roommate finished their version of Folsom Prison Blues, Reed did his best Johnny Cash impression. Frankly, I thought it was a little too alive to be realistic.
This picture is an accurate summary of later in the night. An undoubtedly fast-warming giant glass of dunkel-weizen was resting precariously in my hand, while the anonymous wife of Alex attempted to take a bite out of my shoulder. Christoff looks like he just got smacked in the nuts with a lead sap, while Katie B. honestly thought she was changing the channel on a giant TV. Jessie was simply smiling through the whole situation, too drunk on life and alcohol to care what anyone else was doing.
Here's the best picture of the evening: the anonymous wife of Alex and Katie W. with the captain of the Black Pearl himself, Jack Sparrow. I know what you're thinking: "You gotta be fistfucking me, GMYH?" No, no I'm not. Frankly, I don't think it would fit, and neither of us would really enjoy it. Notice Sparrow's gangly (and no doubt urine-soaked) pirate fingers ever-so-subtly creeping up to cop a cheap pirate feel. The anonymous wife of Alex is visibly upset that it was not her boob being groped by this Bucktonian swashbuckler. Katie, however, appears to be enjoying herself, as evident by the head lean, touching Sparrow's Vitamin-C-deficient pirate hair without regard for the hundreds of little crabs that were undoubtedly jumping onto her head. It's nice to know that Sparrow is the captain of his own boat, but when it comes down to it, he'll swab Jesus's deck any day of the week, as evident by the bling around his neck that he probably swiped from some lilly-livered land lover. Not this evening, though, because this evening was about stealing hearts. With the Black Pearl apparently anchored safely in Lake Michigan, Sparrow and his garish band of scallywags and rogues took to the streets of Chicago in search of any young wench who would be willing to fall for a guy that was for some reason purposely (and unabashedly) dressed up like a famous movie pirate on a September Saturday.