The more time I spend with the rich, the more I fear them..

So as a precursor to this evening's preceedings, let me tell you, it went something like this:

HH:  No, really, I can't, and anyway, that guy creeps me out.

Mad Ferrari:  No, sure, it'll be fine, I'm sure he's not a serial killer.

And so we ventured into the territory in which Jack Nicholson has two houses... God knows you don't need that face staring up at you off of a wall...

Genius as it may seem, two bottles of champagne and one miniskirt later we were in the depths of what was in fact engineering territory; much to my chagrin for an operating table and a blunt saw...  Full legnths of cable (oh my dear, but how easy to strangle you with) and still I remained unconvinced, but really, how could you ever expect to be taken down by a Miller Lite?  The mind boggles...