So we had a party last night.

Somewhat against my will I laid down and let a party happen last night.

Jungle juice--looked like dirty ocean water, horribly delicious, dirty ocean water.

Jungle juice is incredibly sticky, especially the second batch with Hawaiian Punch in it, green like Ecto Cooler. A cooler of Jell-o shots are also relatively sticky.

And apparently some hands were sticky, my beard trimmer was stolen last night.

Not that I have an emotional attachment to my beard trimmer or anything, or that I even use it very much. I feel like a little description is necessary here.

If you know me, you probably know how much of a chore it is for me to grow facial hair, it simply doesn't happen. I DO shave, just not very much. Why do you think it would be necessary for me to have a beard trimmer? Let's just say I don't use it on my face...

Oh, and Dana's iPod was stolen, sort of my fault, I just set it in Vince's room.

Sticky fingers are sticky fingers, so I'm assuming whomever it may have been stole both.

So now some happy thief out there is going to be sitting in his bathroom, hip-hoppin' to Dana's iPod, and shaving his beard with the instrument that I regularly touch my genitalia with. Have fun with that one, man.