COCKTAILAPALOOZA

Last October there was a dress code, a fog machine, and a punch that somebody kept insisting was a potion. Three of us grew beards for it. Max still owns the staff. There is glitter behind the radiator that we have simply agreed not to discuss. The robes are retired, the cauldron has been demoted to a punch bowl, and the fog machine lives in Luke's closet where it can't hurt anybody. The only thing that came out of that night intact was the shaker — so this time, that's the whole plan. Bring a bottle. Bring a mixer. Bring ice. Build a drink, give it a name you'll regret, and get judged out of five by people who are in no condition to judge. No costumes. We're asking nicely. Last October there was a dress code, a fog machine, and a punch somebody kept calling a potion. The robes are retired; the cauldron is a punch bowl now. The only thing that survived was the shaker. Bring a bottle, bring a mixer, bring ice — build a drink, name it something you'll regret, get judged out of five. No costumes. We're asking nicely.