So the turnout last night was rather surprising for Thanksgiving evening--about six others in bogu showed up, though all familiar faces, and afterwards all suspicions were confirmed--the shady but thoroughly friendly character who reminds me of a gay Paul Giamatti did indeed confirm that he is indeed gay. But these are all respectable but geeky characters, and four beers later I made it home and managed not to vomit the greasy Chinese until after about forty minutes of lying down and doing my best to not throw up. I had to pass off my emergency $20, which was so old and so be-stuck with stamp-gluing that I could not manage to pass it off at the hickbar, but rather had to give it away at the Chinese greasy spoon, where the waiters were all overjoyed to see an actual Chinaman in their establishment, and a teacher at that. So long to Andrew Jackson's tiny head.