Get Together at Chili’s

After a almost a decade, some old friends and I decided to get together. It all started with an out-of-the-blue call to…

Wait, tell you what: instead of making you wait three weeks for the whole story, I’ll just put the pictures up now — for the sake of everyone actually involved — and tell the story later, when I have time — for the sake of all you cyberquidnuncs.

So, without further ado, follow the following instructions:

1. Read the caption below the image.
2. If you wish, click on the image.
3. Comment, don’t comment — I don’t really care.

Now, here are the pics:

From left to right: Groovy, Pez, and Cloud H.

From left to right: Zapatero, some kid, and Mustang.

From left to right: Me (Gnorb) and The Wife; Mustang and Cloud H; Zapatero and Pez. Three sets of old married folks, pretending they’re still in high school, but thanking God that they don’t have to go through the awkwardness of having to woo a mate anymore.

Finally, for you reader(s), now you know what I look like and what a babe The Wife is. Feel free to start pondering how the heck a guy like me tricked a beauty like her into spending the rest of her life with me. Here’s a hint: it has nothing to do with the millions I have in that secret Swiss bank account, or that hotel I own in the Bahamas. (You may have heard of it, The Atlantis.)

Edit:
Sorry for the crappy camera-work. It was humid outside, but cold inside the restaurant, so when we walked out the lens fogged up. I tried to un-fog it but — well… gah. Either way, I’m sure Bigfoot wouldn’t have mided bounding into this particular out of focus place. Again, sorry for the shoddy camera-work.

Also, come to think of it, I should really also shrink the images these thumbnails point to. They’re ginormous!

Finally, I’d like to say that I’d much rather be working with something of either a higher pixel-count (4mp is just not enough), or with real film. Pixelation sucks.