|Hemingway and his torch-singing babe at Monica's party.|
Leah, a natural entertainer, gussied up as a torch singer (replete with feather boa) and sang "Cry Me a River" and I donned the corduroys and tweeds of a 1940s Ernest Hemingway, a little older, a little fatter, wearing a beard. Hemingway is not the guy I wanted to be, but he's the one I'm closest to in appearance. I wanted to do Robert Service or Jack London, neither of whom wore a beard. But all were drunks, writers and crazy people, much like your favorite editor.
Lots of fun. Lots.