Coming to you Live from Bed

I am writing to you direct from my bed (or "mi cama," if we were speaking Spanish), where weather conditions are favorable (a nice breeze is blowing through the picture window) and the bed is doing a lovely job of supporting my weight (are you calling me fat?).

I woke up this morning and was accosted by visions of my life in the recent past. I got to giggling so hard that I woke up, regardless of the fact that I only got seven minutes of sleep.

Last night: Premiere of a friend's short film. I saw the guest list and decided to be official paparazzi of the evening, since the attendeees would be all of my favorite friends in the whole world. We got all snazzed up, with heels reaching skyward and suits nicely pressed, and we took the party by storm. The movies? Fun. The fiesta? Just what we needed.

Shotgun was witholding love from the Mighty G just to rile her up, and she was making every effort to step on his Converse and tighten his tie to an uncomfortable level. The Prototype was being faced with not one, but two, of his most enthusiastic stalkers and the tension was fogging up his new Buddy Holly specs. Jeffy (aka The Responsible One), was out on a school night and insisted on making the most of it by accepting smooches from the Rock Star and soliciting anyone who would listen (we promised we wouldn't tell his special lady).

My Pablo planted himself in a high-traffic area and let the action come to him and his hot duds, and he was always surrounded by the most interesting people at the show. This included the likes of my favorite sexual chocolate in the universe, T-Rex, and his hot girfriend, who have been dating for 3 years and keep us all entertained on the Crazy in Love department. Emphasis on Crazy. It also included The Greek, who will be leaving us soon for grad school (who will wear western shirts like you, Greek?). Debbie Cakes was nearby, in her handkerchief-masquerading-as-a-dress, as well as the Haberdashery-chic McAl, complete with Kangol cap and crisp button-down shirt that said, "I don't even have to TRY to look good. You, though? It's a little sad."

The Freeze and JenBear were mingling, fresh off a trip from Vegas but still managing to not look rumpled. Now that's talent! The Freeze's lightly be-pinked hair impressed the hoardes who have not seen her in many a fortnight. JenBear, still a naughty redhead, just smiled quietly and looked hot while sipping her drink.

The Coolest Girl in The World, Lady MelRaf, was in attendance, casually sipping drinks and giving the half-nod to her court when appropriate. The Rock Star was there, and as I mentioned earlier, was giving free kisses (without his guitar in hand, he tends to use cigarettes, cocktails, and sex to distract). He also tossed me around the dance floor like a rag doll, leaving me amazed that my heels didn't break...and my face didn't either. I almost toppled to the ground seventeen times, but was saved by his lanky, guitar-playing arms. It's not easy to lead when dancing with the HellCat, but let me assure you, my darlings, I was the follower in this scenario. And I was also glad I wore underwear.

The cake was great, and D1 and Buck Fever, the Brothers Nelms, made sure we all had some as well as the DVD of their last flick. Smith had to sit out of most of the action due to a bum lumbar region, but enjoyed himself nonetheless because he had a nice view of some young ladies' backsides. Choda Boy was there, albeit for a short time, and JB received lots of kudos for the acting and the suit. Instead of asking "Where's Messina?" we were giving Mister McKinley kisses on the cheek and major creds for his Bald Eagle shirt. He's very patriotic.

Soon, the evening had to come to an end. Our crowd, riding in the CIvic Chariot (aka Carson Daly), was full of little worker bees who needed to be home at a decent hour. We left the party, with the soles of our feet frozen in unnatural arches and our hair a little flatter than it was just three hours earlier. But it was a good kind of hurt.

Even though my dogs were barkin', as the saying goes, I waited until the Last Possible Minute to take the shoes off. And THAT'S when you know that your night was a success. You catch my meaning? Seriously, are you with me?...because I can explain it if you...ahh, nevermind.

this is the time. g