Bombed

We went to a party at the diviest of dive bars last night with a bunch of Steve's friends from work.

I sampled my first Irish car bomb (a perennial Steve favorite), and it was actually good despite the gross combination: Bailey's Irish Creme and Guinness.

There was karaoke at the bar. I'm always sad when there's karaoke, because it seems like people have these great practiced routines. Afterwards, I say I'm going to commit myself to practicing a song and making a routine, but I never do. Maybe that'll be my New Year's resolution.