It was pretty good. Any party that has shots of creme brulee is a pretty good party. Three glasses of champagne, two beers and one good waltz around the floor to Gogol Bordello "Start Wearing Purple" and now we are home and the false eyelashes are back in their cage where they belong.
San Francisco is even magic at night.
Please cross your fingers for me: Steven may be getting my damn flu/cold. If he gets it, I will be even deeper agony than before.