soapboxdiner

Da bomb weekend

So yes. Weekend. To say FABULOUS! would understate the greatness of the times had.

Of course you already know that it began with a minor "incident" regarding who and how one works overtime at the office. Namely, me - if asked any other way than sliding more work on my desk at 10 minutes to quitting time and saying, "You don't mind staying, do you SBD?"

But alas, I had a tarot reading to attend. And for once (this is reading #3 for my metaphysics-enjoying self), the reading said absolutely nothing about me being mean and cruelly treated all through life until my untimely death at an early age. Yay! It wasn't a full reading though, as my hostess was soon to be out the door to go to a "Healing with Stones" lecture up at a Wiccan Store.

It was fine, though. From tarot to movies with the good neighbor, whose house I'm slightly ashamed to admit ooges me out. Being a girl highly allergic to pet hair and fleas, my skin starts to itch and crawl like crazy when confronted with the physical evidence coating my clothes and peppering my chili-mac&cheese. Which is kinda sad, because her dalmation and her kitty are the sweetest creatures you'll ever meet. I lasted exactly one movie and a Kahlua before heading home at 11. Upon entering my home, I instructed the kid to follow my lead and strip down completely naked. We threw our respective attires into the wash and at last, my skin returned to its standard state of un-itchy/crawlly.

Saturday began with working on a new design idea for that fabulous Shivery Thang. Within a couple hours, I banged out an image of the design I pictured in my brain and wonder of wonders, she very graciously said she thought it would be good enough to keep. She's so awesome. Last night I worked out writing the code for it though, and for some odd reason, when I said I wanted the table cells to be the same width as what my PSP said the picture was, the whole web page threw up and died. I rebooted twice and it's still wonky. I'll be starting the code all over to see if maybe it was just a fluke.

From there it was off to wash the big blue beast (aka the Dodge) and off to pick up the fab Mrs. For the highlights, check her out. She covered the exciting points of interests. Then we partied down with lots and lots of D-land hotties and others. Twas a great time. Ms. R of the book club brought a friend with her, who upon meeting I instantly embarrassed by inserting my foot squarely in my mouth - which is no mean feat (haha) as I'm not the most limber of women. Anyway, so he introduced himself and all I could think to say was, "Gee, you have the best eyes. All green and pretty like. You know I love art, and your eyes look like a peice of art." Ugh. I shudder at myself.

But all in all, it was great times had with fabulous people in a beautiful home stocked with much beer, limes, and chips. Does it get any better? Genius, the hostesses. Sparkling and grand. Before leaving, Mrs. R suggested that, rightfully, we should relinquish our leis to other party guests who were without lei. I gave mine to a sunglass and Hawaiian shirt clad gentleman who then shared with me a double-handed high five. I refrained from making the questionably tactful comment, "Wanna get leied?" I was ever so proud after the "your eyes are art" comment of earlier.

As the evening was off to a good start, I returned home to further the festivities with Good Neighbor & Co. Off 50 miles to the south we went, and arrived at Mugs 'N Jugs just in time to catch Korean Lionel Ritchie perform "Sailing". He was followed by several other fine folks doing the karaoke thang. I sunk into my seat and consumed a Lynchburg Lemonade in a fit of nostalgia - followed by a vodka cranberry and the dubious concoction called an Alien Urine Sample. I blame my susceptibility to uttering that order to having imbibed more than my share of alcohol from early on in the day.

Once the Co. of Good Neighbor & Co. arrived, we learned we were in actuality celebrating a birthday. So I bought the birthday girl a drink, which she followed by three more and many shots. By that time, the dance floor was opened and we were up and down. While I was down, Birthday Girl shocked me a bit by producing her lighter, which was a startlingly realistic bronze penis Zippo. As if just owning such a thing and bringing it out for display in public wasn't enough, she then shocked me again by grabbing the seat of an immaculately coiffed stranger, wheeling her over to our table and saying, "Here, you look like you could use a penis." and flicking the flame in her face.

At this, and the ensuing registration of fear and disgust on the poor thing's face, I could do no less than burst into fits of guffawing laughter. The poor taste demanded no less.

Birthday Girl's exploits were only beginning though, and for the rest of the evening, she flailed her flaccid upper body about in the direction of any and everyone at the bar and told them "It's my birsthday. You gonna buy me drunk, asshole? No? Fuck you then."

Out of love for Birthday Girl, we stopped her while she was ahead, when she pulled the stunt on two highly muscled men. I, however, thusly being the social butterfly I am when copious amount of liquor enter my system, struck up slightly subtle but infinitely understandably risque banter with these men. By the end of the evening, they were so enamored with my wit and charm, they asked me to take them home and cook them breakfast. And have sex. Because, according to these fine gentlemen, I have nothing to be ashamed of, physically speaking. Insert unspoken acknowledgement of my several dozen extra pounds of fluff. And as they assured me my eating the ice from my glass of water scientifically proved beyond any question my state of sexual frustration, they would happily oblige me with a toss. Sadly, I had to punch them in the neck and tell them I would rather eat glass.

Ho hum.

I rolled into the house at 4 Sunday morning with a killer headache, which I proceeded to sleep off until afternoon. I then got up, made cheese quesadillas for the kid and I, and promptly retired to nap.

And to honest with you, Monday morn came far too early and lasted far, far too long. More overtime tonight and the promise of extra hours for the rest of the week loom. I look forward to the paycheck, but not the work.

Okay, I'm off to attempt to fix up that Shivery Chic's code. I might endulge in some dinner as well. It's high times as Chez SBD, darlings. Wish you were here.

6:39 pm - 03.24.03
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