our boy rome finally left his twenties behind on friday.  abandoning what was left of his youth and deciding to give it one last hurrah before he finds himself in housepants curled up with buddy and just playing suduko all night.

friends came from far and wide to help rome with this celebration.  hell, jean even flew in from california.  evan and eric came up from south cackilacky.  i drove the three miles to his house.  nuts!

so we started out at jerome’s around six thirty or seven.  i was the only one suited up at that point, but that would quickly change.  actually, the guys changed.  anyway.  the people that were in on the limo and joining for dinner slowly started to trickle in.  gabe was last pimp through the door since the limo picked him up at his place…

rome and jean looking rough suited up.

laura lu and patrica looking hot as all get out.

eric and monika dashing in the kitchen.

and everybody is automatically cooler in a limousine.  in my two rides in a limo, i have come to know this as fact.  and with a bottle of bubbly in the ride and some rap blaring, it was only a matter of time before gang signs started getting flashed and everybody looked gangsta.  note the spelling. 

jean, rome, and gabe in the back.

LP smiling while i throw out the gas face.  yeah, i said it.  if you don’t know third bass, you shouldn’t be here!

evan and eric posing as hard asses.

sue and i both are tough.

patty snow puckering up.

too cool to keep the eyes open for j-rod and LP.  jean hanging between them.

dinner at havana was great.  israel and his friend, eric, (yes, there were two erics and two phonetic jareds.) lent to interesting conversation throughout the meal.  we tackled all the big hitters for dining conversation.  politics and religion.  they are usually no-no’s, but for some reason, i have been game on such debates lately.

after a wonderful meal, we piled back into the limo.  it was obvious that we ate some serious grub since we scraped like a mo-hunky leaving the restaurant.  then it was off to loft 1523 to embibe some tasty libations and enjoy the company of yet more comrades.  (that was, like, a three dollar sentence with all those fifty cent words.  you liked that huh?)

loft is a decent place to just kick back a few in a more sofisticated setting.

brian wants you…

rome with the nieghbors, mark and sherrill.

jason snead and i.  chillin’.

brian and sherrill.

leigh, in from out of town with her friend whose name escapes my memory.  seriously, that is what it said on her driver’s license.

when they were looking to close down and kick us out of the bar, a handful of us decided to kick it back to where it all started… jerome’s house.

gabe, hanging late night.

ike throwing out the eyebrow for the intellectual look.  either that, or he was wasted and was over compensating only the one eye to keep open.

time stamp on the picture of jarod drinking what was more than likely his last beer for the night?  roughly 4am.

evan and buddy chilling late night.  apparently, i am having trouble centering people into the pictures.

rome getting his birthday kiss on the cheek.

i took a little time to sober the hell up so that i could navigate back to la casa delYerg.  but i felt a little out of sorts when the clock on the nightstand read five fifteen.  so i called jerome, and the same anamoly was occurring at his house.

i didn’t awaken from my slumber on saturday until about three thirty in the PM.  from what i have heard of other participants, i was one of the early risers.  the guy that was thirty years and one day old was rumored to not rise until the sevenish range.  full recovery for some didn’t take place until monday.  that is a one hell of a time.

thanks to all that organized, it was much appreciated.  happy birthday, brother.