03.14.05

Ooof-dah. What a weekend. Went to a party Saturday night. It didn't develop into my definition of a party (i.e. A party isn't a party until someone's wearin' someone else's underpants on their head.) but it was fun.

It's unnerving how many people knew me, and even remembered my name. This is all from my brief dating of the Younger Man last spring--whose birthday party it was. Very strange, though it's a rather heady ego boost. I didn't think I was that memorable. Dang.

Drove another friend and her man to their house. Poor guy, she and I cackled and caught up all the way home.

Sunday afternoon I taught the bellydance mini-lesson at the baby shower. Momma-to-be had to stop because of Braxton-Hicks contractions, but had a wonderful time. Everyone did, I guess, because my check was double the price I asked for. Hundred percent tip? Golly, gee whiz, and thank you! *grin*

Last night the Beat Revival was on fire. Everyone that got up to read rocked, rolled and shook the dust out. We had a proper band to back up the readers. It seemed to inspire real stage presence. I got up and read a couple of new pieces. You can check 'em out here; should you be so inclined. The fabulicious MlleE rocked and wailed beautifully. Too fab, too fab. Treluv did a Star Wars poem that immediately fingered every closet geek in the room...and that was most of us. BB got up with Chatterbox and read while she scatted along.

Oh. It was lovely.

When my alarm went off at 6:00 this morning, KaliHellKitty was nestled next to my knees, and I was too comfortable to get up. Laying in bed until 6:28 was decadent, but thhhhppppppp! I don't care.

Work was work. I did get to play with the large format copier. Someone needed multiple copies of blueprints. I wrassled these huge, sail-like sheets of paper all over the front of the shop. Then the copier jammed, demanded more paper, and behaved like a spoiled six-year-old.

Whee.

This afternoon, I got to see Bix. Her surgery is done, and she's back in Stumptown. She gets to wear an orthopaedic corset for a while. We tossed around ideas like painting proper tits on it, or (my favourite) spray painting it metallic gold to look like a Roman centurion's breastplate. Just think of the trompe l'oeil effects one could create. Yummy!

Cooler heads prevailed (though I'm still hoping for either a delicate hearts and flowers stencil, or self-stick Christmas bows) and we met another friend for a late lunch at the Cup and Saucer.

It's a shame when a crypto-diner can't get hash brown potatoes right. Proper hash browns can only be found in east coast diners at 4:00AM. The best have a crunchy crust, with a tender interior that soaks up every last bit of grease on the griddle. Add some scrapple and I'm a happy, happy woman.

However, the waiter did agree to address our existential angst and brought green Tabasco when asked. I guess we came out of it okay: hash browns, 1 (but only due to the butter and salt that I added with wild abandon); waiter with wit, 6. Not bad for a Monday afternoon.

Now I am going to be a pathetic blotch on the face of humanity. And maybe work on my costume. Heavens, this one is going too slowly. Oh well. Builds character, neh?

Go. Be fabulous.

Back one. ||||| Forward one.