A few weeks ago, our friend Betsy had one of those big, significant, oh-my-god-what-have-I-done-with-my-life birthdays that when you have it, nobody will let you just sit at home and get drunk. They've all got to witness and if possible add to your humiliation with a big party that you're going to if they have to hog-tie and carry you.
Betsy was actually quite a good sport about it. The party was at her friend Trinia's house, a real swank establishment with a pool and a top-notch cabana bar. There was food, beer, wine and plenty of carousing. Rumor has it that people were thrown into the pool, but I wouldn't know anything about that.
And there was Bruno, Trinia's American Bulldog. He spent the early part of the shindig moseying around meeting folks and doing that custodial work dogs are so good at, but later, as the guests dwindled, he took a seat and joined the party. Pretty much as illustrated above, although I may have imagined the cigar.
