Good times

The best memories are where the details are fuzzy, marred by time or other circumstances, but you distinctly remember that seemingly odd objects and images fit together in a way no other context holding those things together could hold. It is during such a night that makeshift birthday hats with leather straps and a ukelele and butt cleavage makes sense, when Bulleit bourbon and its bottle's owner just "go together."

The best memories are those you know you probably won't remember later. It must have been a great experience that you'll remember having had and not wanting any other way, despite the lack of details.

And no, I wasn't trashed, naysayers. Just very, very tired.