The Phantom Zucchini

Dave's cake.

Look, it was on sale, ok? These are rough economic times. I do wonder what happened to Fatima, though.








But wait. Let's begin at the beginning. The day started out as most days in my life do. With a false alarm and some not too hard on the eyes firemen.

Firemen, ladies.

Luckily Dave's sis Sue, just like me is always prepared for such an emergency which inevitably occurs before one has put her face on. Note: I used to HATE those large sunglasses because I have a tiny pin head and they make me look like a giant bug with a tiny head or an alien with hair, but now I so love them with all my heart and soul.

I am not pictured here because even with the glasses on I looked like absolute shit. However, this drill was an excuse to hang around the streets of downtown Toronto in our Walmart attire which I hear firemen find very very sexy indeed.









This is the beginning of the night before mascara was running and words were slurring and people were making tearful speeches and puking and such.

Another one of the earlier pics.

Ok, there is a drink in my hand in this one but I cropped it out.


However, it's like 9:00 pm and still all very respectable. A very grown up party with a bunch of well behaved individuals.

Then something happened.

Then something worse. The ghost of Fatima possessed the soul of Dave and he began writhing and convulsing and speaking in tongues (or maybe it was Spanish) and then he said "Hey where's my scotch?" and blew out the candles and everything was fine.