A Graveyard Smash

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Kimberly's Halloween bash, 2003.

Halloween. Check.   Kimberly. Check.   Me. Check.
Then it must mean: Best. Party. Ever!

Ooh, Beverly's scared. Ghosts, goblins, spider webs, strobe lights, the Democratic presidential candidates. Eeeek! Run!

Dave tells Katherine that in the future, she better recognize that the size of the box does not necessarily match the size of what's inside, if you know what I mean.

Barbara closes her eyes and counts to three, hopeful that wolfman Elvis will just go away.

Who says Larry can't hold his liquor?

Careful letting the hippie get a hold of the Jell-O shots. Next thing you know, he's urinating in the bushes and ranting about "Dubya sending us to ruin, and how about the Grateful Dead, they rock ... Wooooo!!!"

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