...because the management would appreciate any recollections, anecdotes, lost articles of clothing, or missing brain cells that might help in piecing Saturday night back together. Naturally, most of the blame can be placed on the usual suspects. A full report is forthcoming, pending lots of little reports that lead to at least a hazy notion of what actually transpired. Some weak impressions to build upon: "Last Caress" by The Misfits; something called The Fortress of Drinkitude; The question "Dude, did you see that girl that I was making out with?" being repeated over and over; and a roomfull of people grabbing each other, jumping up and down, and screaming, "Let's all meet up in the year 2000."
If any of this makes sense to you, the management would appreciate your help. Little is clear prior to the Sunday afternoon's big platter of nachos and spicy bloody mary.
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