Sometime in the middle of the night, Jack's furnace stopped running and when we woke up in the morning, some ice cubes that had been dropped on the floor earlier in the night still hadn't melted. That's how fucking cold it was when we woke up.
Here's the birthday boy in all his 33-year-old glory. Mad props to a wiggity-wasted Emma for ripping Joey's shirt open right before I snapped this pic. We were there to celebrate Joey's birthday and this is the only picture that I have of him...which is understandable when you look at some of the other things that were going on. Like...
