I have this philosophy when it comes to parties. One, it's not a real party unless something gets broken, and two, it wasn't a good party unless the next day you're at least a little bit embarassed by something you said or did.
Let's just say, it was a good party.
Réunion. Even Anna Karina came.
Everybody had fun, and there was a good mix of music ranging from Bikini Kill to Charles Mingus. There was even some dancing, but I missed that part because I was in the kitchen breaking sh*t and spilling champagne all over the floor. But in my own defense I should add that things like that are bound to happen when one starts diluting her sangria with tequila half-way through the party because *wink wink* it will "make the sangria last longer for everyone".
(Side note: My sincere apologies to Madame R's kitchen floor and to the family of the champagne glass whose life I so carelessly took.)
Also---My Americanized cake salé recipes seemed to be real crowd pleasers. I am very happy about this... seeing as how much I personally hate cake salé. More on this later.
By 3:00AM FrenchBoy could barely keep his gorgeous big brown eyes open, so we decided it was time to go. On the way home, walking past the kebab "snack" shop on the corner, I got a brilliant idea for a portrait. One of those brilliant ideas that only comes to mind after having consumed two liters of sangria/tequila.
"The Kebab Portrait"
Oh, and a translation for you non-Francophones, Gueule de bois = Hang-over.