When the Lights Go Down in the City

Let's start this installment off with a picture of Jason. I think I took it around noon on Friday, January 7--the night of which was when the rest of these shots were taken. Let's call it the calm before the storm shot. Jason had worked the night before, so the blurriness fits his mind state.
I don't purport to know the exact reasons for why we were so busy Friday, I mean, aside from the general radness of the spot. I guess a lot of USF kids are back in town after the holidays and want to hammer some down before they have to get back to the books.

Which is neither here nor there in terms of Dick, an Inner Richmond regular. Short story made shorter: Dick rules all.
Let the madness begin. I'd say we reached Defcon 2 on the Clusterfuck Alert Levels. I think the color code for it is an orange level clusterfuck.
Fun was had by all. Mostly. Always a little drama on the weekend.
Noelle, hittin' the wine glass. Classy broad, that Noelle.
Just don't call her Kelly, okay?Hmmm...rather curious, I'd say.
Guy in the middle has been bogarting the bowl all night. He's got those Spicoli, "That was my skull!" eyes.
Come take a ride on a Babetastic Voyage with me.
Shit's about to get heavy:
Or not. Question is: would you buy a car from these guys?
That's a whole lot of pearly whites:
At the Buckshot, we're all about the love. Tempered with a healthy dose of telling it like it is:
Ohio in the house!
It's a hot blonde sandwich with Clark Kent wondering how he got in the middle:
Of course, Conan O'Brien's younger brother, Noonan O'Brien, was lit:
Intense tete-a-tete about rare Joy Division remixes, followed immediately by an elaborate fist-bump ritual:
Can I say? Can I just say it? At the Buckshot, tits are welcome. Nay--encouraged even.
Is there something in the Tecate?
Shaka brah!
Sometimes you gotta get the pimpwear out of the closet:
Local's only:
Cash is King:
Beast and the beauty:
Yes, she was sucking on a glow stick all night.
All we are saying, is give peace a chance:
Josh slipped into the grid later on in the evening:
Who, me?
Photobomb:
The Clicker of the Beast:
Now that's love. Or eight or nine PBRs. Really, what's the difference?
Bumpin'. Another on in the books.