This past Saturday was the annual Sinister Barbecue and Planning Session. However, due to the weather, we had Thanksgiving dinner in the Boardroom instead. A fourteen-pound turkey vanished, as if by magic, in front of our very eyes. True, there were ten people eating, but one of them was a young girl who ate nothing but corn. In keeping with Thanksgiving tradition, there was cranberry sauce. Both kinds — the real thing, and the stuff that holds the shape of the can forever.

Afterwards, to commemorate Sev & Lisa's return from Las Vegas, we watched Ocean's Eleven (the original, naturally), and then played vingt-et-un and poker until the wee hours. I've come to the conclusion that I hate wild cards and silly game variants; when you have to spend time equally dividing the pot instead of actually playing, it's a bad thing. I also came to the conclusion that Henry Silva's face was made of plastic. It was tight, shiny, and looked exactly the same as it did twenty-seven years later in Amazon Women on the Moon (though he still looked nowhere near as freakish as Michael Jackson).

Sev & Lisa brought back a six-pack of Romulan Ale from the Star Trek Experience, of which I had a bottle. I don't generally like beer, but this wasn't bad at all — only a slightly bitter aftertaste. And it was quite blue; the ale itself was dark blue, and the foam a shockingly cheerful day-glo blue. It stained my tongue blue, as well. (That wasn't the only thing it turned blue, but propriety prevents me from elaborating further.)