Sunday, August 24, 2003

Last night I was at Bill's annual Tomato Party, and I spent most of the time talking to Dave Douglas, who I don't get to see all that often but always have fun when I do. Dave has worked for NFL Films seemingly forever, and he has great snarky stories about famous NFL people (mentioning the name "Dave Wannstedt" to him is like opening the bull run at Pamplona).

But we didn't talk about the NFL at all. All Dave wanted to talk about was military history of all things. He has just published a book collecting his great-grandfather's newly-discovered Civil War letters and he gave me a copy. We talked for an hour about Gettysburg and General Sherman and Victor Davis Hanson and things which most of the population couldn't care less about, and had a great time.

Today I went to Quan's birthday party at her friend's house in Upper Darby, a few minutes away from my house. I greeted her with something unforgivable: "Happy 33rd, Quannie!" And of course she shooshed me, since she lies about her age to everyone, given the cultural pressures that unmarried Asian women have in their thirties. But she looked great, the first time I'd seen her as a blonde, and she was her usual bubbly self.

I spent most of my time at the party with her cousins, just hanging out, smoking cigars (I love a good cigar occasionally), pretending to drink beer (I nursed the one I had into infinity), and arguing about which entrepreneurial taxes sucked the most. It was great fun. One of them is the adoptive son of
a certain former congressman who is currently in jail for scamming people out of millions of dollars, and I found out all about the white collar prison he is currently in in Florida, and it sounded so nice I wanted to move in.

I loved the party though. Homemade spring rolls, chicken satay with peanut sauce, and cigars. You cannot beat that.

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