For some reason, our models have started passing out business cards for some sideline of theirs that's only tangentially related to figure drawing. Tonight's specimen encouraged us to sign up for ballroom dancing lessons. As if! How in the world could I take ballroom dancing lessons from a dude whose weiner I've seen? That would break one of my cardinal rules, one of the guideposts by which I've steered the Rusty Tanker of Life. As always, however, the eventful part of the night was the afterparty, during which we helped Sean set his playlist for next week, which is now going to include a whole shitload of show tunes plus "If I Had A Hammer" but emphatically not "Why Don't We Do It In The Road," which Bernard put us off for a good long while by singing several times in a voice I can't find words to describe. Suffice it to say that several patrons of the restaurant jumped to the conclusion that there had been a terrible accident involving a truck full of live chickens.