They are denizens of the sky, who feast on the critters below. They swoop and soar, they glide on the air, they get sports teams named after them. They are like angels of vengeance, except they have feathers all over them, not just on the wings. They are BIRDS OF PREY. If you think about it, they kick a lot of ass. So we're theming our party after them. What better way to celebrate Stanford... [read more]

They are denizens of the sky, who feast on the critters below. They swoop and soar, they glide on the air, they get sports teams named after them. They are like angels of vengeance, except they have feathers all over them, not just on the wings. They are BIRDS OF PREY. If you think about it, they kick a lot of ass. So we're theming our party after them. What better way to celebrate Stanford Football's romp over Washington State, or the wonders of autumn, or eagles, or Saturday, than to come get very drunk with CONAN and JOHN and DAVE and MAGGIE and EVAN. There will be loud music and beer and drinks and we will put pictures of angry-looking birds on the wall. And when the clock strikes twelve, we will raise a toast to those skyborne wonders, and we will say to them, "caw."


(...We're having a big party. We invited you because you're the shit. You should come. You don't have to wear a beak.)

LOVE,
270 Oak