
After a long night of revelry and more fun than we could barely handle, we needed to find ourselves a taxi back to our house. And engage in more people-watching, of course.
Me-ow.

We amused ourselves with these girls from...Cleveland? Philadelphia? with a rousing game of "Pass the High Heels."

We had danced our butts off for hours, and it was dang-near 3 a.m. We hadn't eaten in 9 hours, so we instructed our Ethiopian taxi driver that he was going to need to make a pit stop at Carl's Jr.!
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.

Tabasco, french fries, and sparkle hairspray. So! Much! Fun!
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