We threw a kickass post Valentine's party at my house Saturday night. About 60 people showed up and my living room/balcony still wasn't completely full. Of course the power for the whole neighborhood was out until about an hour before the party so we were scrounging for candles and had settled on possibility of this (romantic) setback. Luckily the power came back, but the candles stayed and eventually lit one of our friends on fire later in the night. She survived. Also a rather flamboyant Zambian guy somehow managed to dance his way through our television and break it. Party foul. Despite all this, the most disturbing part of the night was that we called the party for 8:00 and a bunch of people actually showed up on time. Who does that?

Here are my beautiful ladies Ali, Leah, Nancy and May. Leah and May (my housemates) made heart-shaped cookies, made everyone wear red to the party and even made the kissing booth pictured above because that's what girls do. I grilled chicken wings pre-party and got the beer. Way too stuck in our gender roles.


Everyone was supposed to wear red and I picked up this shirt in the back alleys of this covered market in town. The place was scarily like a maze, but when I emerged, I was victorious. I was on a mission to find bootleg 50 cent t-shirts and thoroughly amused myself by going up to vendors saying "I'm looking for 50 cent. Can you show me where he is?" In process I realized that my long lost brother is Michael Ballack:


This is my boy Bernard having a zen moment at 3am when someone turned on U2. Pele supports him just in case.



Now it's 4:30. Things died down around 2:30 actually, but about ten remained for a two hour long dance party finale. By this time Luka, Sarah and I have formed a band. I'm on air drums, Sarah is playing air tamborine and Luka is playing the fan guitar (really well) on the floor while we all sing Hey Jude. Priceless.