Aimee and I went to Jillian’s last night. It’s never that fun when you really hope and expect it to be, but when you’re wandering through its alternatingly high-tech/old-school environment, watching grown men break sweats dancing on DDR games, crashing a Wellesley High School reunion, and finding the photo booth stuck back by the kitchen on the third floor, it can be a lot of fun.

Aimee in the photo booth mirror:



Aimee and I manage to look equally stupid “skiing.”:



As we walked back to the car, Aimee spotted this classic among port-a-potties: