Skyrockets and beer

Fun night. Walked a half-a-mile with a rolling 30 lb. cooler of exotic beers, met a cool couple that needed a dude as a counterpoint, met a girl who was unguardedly smashed just before we walked to the yacht club to see the fireworks--and by smashed I mean smashed as in 11 self-made vodka iced teas or whatever the fuck she was drinking or smoking or snorting smashed, watched some tripped out fire works; lost the smashed girl, um, accidentally; paid $5 for me and an unknown until then family of 4 to pee in an italian restaurant (the little girl doing the pee pee dance got to go first), met Marybeth again for the 2nd time in 365 days; was denoted a professional story teller; was noted for my tan lines (necklace--somehow, and, the coolest of all tan lines, the flipflop tanline). Later, that same night, I talked to Marybeth in a meaningful way because she happened to be sitting on the cooler that held all of my Landshark Lager beer. And the smashed girl made it back to the party.

Pics are of fireworks (no, really?) and of the party's host, me and her pup.