Went to a client's Christmas party last night. Halfway through, they brought out belly dancers. I watched them gyrate around the dance floor, lit sporadically by blinding disco lights, in their bedazzled bras and sheer skirts while balancing scimitars on their heads, and the DJ cranked Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas Is You. A waiter stopped at our table and handed me a cocktail I didn't order. My Vietnamese coworker begin to explain to us why turtles are sacred and cannot be kept as pets. He said he captured a turtle when he was a kid, and the turtle spoke to him in a dream. It told him that if he let it go free, it would grant him one wish. He let it go free, and his mother's lost dogs were returned the next day. I tried my drink, it tasted like a rum and coke. The belly dancers and Mariah Carey were still going at it. A guy dressed as Santa Claus had joined them on the dance floor. Sometimes life feels like a David Lynch movie.