Nick brought a little christmas tree to the party. It was his housewarming gift. Somebody else brought a very drunk Russian guy who decided it was his destiny to decorate the tree. There were no ornaments in the apartment, but, undaunted, he began to collect whatever he could find - a dried flower, a bit of ribbon, a sweet pepper, a potato, (it gets weirder) an onion, a piece of clear plastic from a bag, a receipt, (weirder still) some styrofoam packing bits, and finally from somewhere he finds a condom, which he decides is not weird enough to simply place in the tree branches, no, he feels the need to open, unroll and inflate it, and just then I realize that I only had one in the apartment (tucked away for special moments like the one I was planning to have later that evening) and suddenly I see this crazy guy unrolling and inflating my insurance policy, effectively ruining my night, when all of a sudden, POW! Not yet halfway inflated, the condom does a convincing impersonation of the Graf Zeppelin, and is suddenly flaccid and quite perforated in the Russians hands. "Wow! I'm not gonna let any guy come near me wearing one of those" Ann bursts out, and I say out loud "Thank God I'm sterile." Two guys who are young enough to have never really considered sterility as an option in life burst out laughing, trying feebly to contain themselves, as if afraid that I'm not really kidding and they might be insulting me by laughing. I'm just glad for the laughter to soften the embarrasment of the triple wammy: the Russian finding the condom, the ominous explosion, and my shattered dreams of romance that night.

Little did I know. Omens come in all shapes and sizes.