Alex clearly annoyed that we haven't yet begun to party.
Still annoyed Alex isolates himself.
Depression sets in.
And finally a beer. Utter joy.
Moar beers.
The Alexs dance the night away.
Forever classy.
A boy and his beer.
Explaining to Calmus that he can't throw broken cigarettes onto the sidewalk and make people pick them up for his enjoyment.
Unfazed.
Time to turn up the sexy.
Crooked eyes and a pretty flower.
Who's my best friend? This guy.
It's official.
About to have the best night ever.
I get this look so often from ladies.
More best friends.
A picture of someone taking a picture. What's up art school?
This party has fried chicken? Hell yes it does.
I don't remember taking this.
It's my party and I'll sigh if I want to.
The morning after.
Halloween. Still keeping it classy.
Brought to you by Rolling Rock.
Channeling his inner Dylan Rieder.
Das right.
Everyone loves the Jesus.
Gay Matthews.
Yes. Yes we do.
Jesus drinking Bailey's with Obama.
Sums up the night pretty well.
3:30 a.m.