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Ah, the omnipresent 24-hour ATM. Too giving, and never judgmental. Many times have I sought your services. Many times, to my despair.

But not on this fortunate occasion, for I had discovered a locale actually worth spending my money at!

A skee ball bar! …With… a cage full of beer! What more do you need?

Now, I am not known for my dexterity when it comes to balls… um, in any sense

My hand-eye coordination is not on the level of, say, all the other kids in gym class who never wanted me on their teams. Skee ball is one of the few ball sports I can actually achieve some amount of success in, primarily because it is a solitary game, and therefore subject to my very relative definition of success. For this reason, pinball also appeals greatly to my nonexistent athletic talents, particularly because you never even need to make physical contact with the ball.

Nonetheless, my hand-eye coordination when it comes to photography is a little bit better. Caught the ball going into the 20 pocket. Unfortunately nobody was there to take a picture when I sunk it in the 100. But, it’s not really that big of a deal or anything…

Despite all my rage I am still a bright light in a cage. Eh? Eh?

The bar scene in New York is an experience something akin to that of moths drawn to a flame. A night crawling around Lower Manhattan has at once an irresistible attraction, and yet it so often ends in flames. But that’s just another reason why they shouldn’t put candles in a crowded room full of extremely drunk people.

At the very least, you can usually get some decent shots along the way.

In light of yet another summer weekend flushed down the toilet, I thought some photos as dark as Friday and Saturday’s black out attempts would fit the bill.

Thought this little piece of wall art might help increase our apartment’s resale value.

In other news, the arachnid invasion of Chicago has really gained momentum in the past month. At first I kind of liked having the little guys around, but the thing is… now they’re not so little anymore…

Maturity flows like beer at most bars. Bodily fluids do too, apparently.

Speaking of “oh shit!” moments… act cool — it’s the fuzz.