Megan's going-away party.

My friend Megan made the wholly conscious decision to abandon me in Los Angeles and migrate to the Great Hippie North to live in an elven forest amongst freaks and mutants whose collective lifeforce is dwarfed by even my most inane Twitters, and she threw this little party. It wasn’t that little, really.

In a sentimental move designed to give the occasion of Megan’s exodus even more meaning, I pledged this party would be the last time I’ll participate in any karaoke-based activity. I suppose a more proper gesture would have been to refuse to karaokeing until Megan returned, but the truth is I just fucking hate karaoke.

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