Here's me giving Sarah a hug for inviting me to what was one of the best private shows I've ever seen (and probably marked the last time the Killers played a venue that holds less that 300 people).
On his way out, Ed was trying to be all smooth and kick it to Julie. Little did Ed know, while he was whispering sweet romantic nothings, Grant was behind him frantically motioning for me to get the camera out - because he'd gotten his balls out.
...that's right, y'all: FRANCES! Who could forget the septagenarian, chocolate, love-nugget that I French Kissed on my last birthday? (I'm so not kidding by the way, go on, click it. I dare you.) What's better than her cute lil' face pressed against my chest? She looks like one of the California Raisins! (Remember them?)
And hey, remember this guy? So he's sort of been sitting on the side watching our dance party and when Amber asked him if he wanted to dance he said "How about we all smoke a jay instead?" And busted out this big, brown, gorilla finger of a joint.
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
