On Saturday, I had my dress-as-a-character-from-a-song party, and next party I have will be more succinctly titled, cause what a pain in the ass it's been to write that every time.
Kit came walking in behind her Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds figure, which is now here because Kit is a huge drunk. Actually, she opened a second vintage shop in Winston-Salem and Saturday was opening day, and she STILL showed up, and I'd just like to mention for every yahoo who was all, "I can't come. I have plans to be depressed that night," KIT CAME AFTER HER STORE'S GRAND OPENING.
Peg came as Jingle Bells, and SHE just had a quadruple bypass! Also, where the Sam Hill did she get those boots? Did she mug Leiutenant uhura? Oh, goddammit with this keyboard and its lack of a capital u.
Yes, my neighbor, fmr., Peg, of the norovirus Pegs, answered my call a week or so ago. "Hey, Peg! I'm having a party and seeing as you are the last human on planet earth without an email, I thought I'd call and invite you like it's 1989! The lost tribes of Papua New Guinea emailed to tell me you're a loser. What's new, anyway?"
And that is when she told me, oh, I had an emergency quadruple bypass a month ago. Other than that nothing.
Don't you hate it when someone tells you stuff like that right after you gave them a bunch of shit?
"Hey, fattie, have a muffin to match your top! Wow!"
"Oh, heh, yeah. My treatments for my incurable disease have made me retain water."
I guess one could, you know, abstain from jerky comments, but that's the silly talk.
Speaking of my keyboard, Faithful Reader Happy came as Blackbird, and she gave me a NEW KEYBOARD. Which, Dear Happy. Guess whose ass is dragging and who did not hook that up yet? Was it your old pal Lieutenant small uhura, over here? Captain, I'm getting something, but it's not a capital u.
As you know from yesterday's post, Dick Whitman was a devil in a blue dress, and after we speculated on it heavily, we finally looked at his dress tag, and if DW were a girl, he'd be a size 16. I mean, he IS a size 16 as a man in a woman's dress. He's too big for Buffalo Bill's skin suit. "Was she a great big fat person?"
Buffalo Bill. Making size-14 women feel bad since 1989. Hannibal Lecter. Making them not feel much better with that "big through the hips, roomy" comment, either.
Dick Whitman, will you send us the pictures you took at Goodwill, of you in the OTHER blue dresses you auditioned? There's one that makes his hoots look fabulous.
Despite one of you sick Mrs. Robinsons hoping Ryan came as some kind of gladiator, because we all know how many zesty gladiator songs there are, he came as Rubberband Man, which, yeah. Oh my god I totally shold have dressed as Mrs. Robinson, mostly because I'd love a leopard-print slip and bra.
I love that picture of my work husband and me. It's like he's punching me in the head. Which I deserve, because I just don't listen. If I'm good enough, maybe he'll change.
And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.
Poochie and her husband came as Me and Bobby McGee. Dying. Also, she made the Best Cupcakes Ever®.
They had real chunks of strawberry in the frosting. And they were VEGAN, and it's not like me to enjoy a cupcake that doesn't have a little leather in it.
Faithful Reader Laural, whose u I cannot cap goddammit, came as a pretty fly, and her husband who does not at all remind me of Hulk or anything, came as a white guy, so they were Pretty Fly for a White Guy. They may win on most creative idea.
My friend The Poet, whose real name may or may not be Sarah, was Sara Smile. I love that song. All of a sudden I have a newfound appreciation for the Hall and the Oates.
From now on, whenever you have to describe me, and sure you do, I want you to say, Well, she's got baby hair, with a woman's eyes. And don't explain yourself beyond that. Thank you.
My own date and cohost I barely saw all night, much less photographed. I kept asking, "Where's Ned?" It turns out there was this whole contingent out by the fire pit, that I never ever got to. Afterward, we sat up till after 2:00 and confabbed, and he'd be all, "And blooo de blooo told me…" and I'd say, "Blooo de blooo was here?" "Yeah, he was at the fire pit."
Goddammit. Plus I kept hoping it'd get warm so Ned wouldn't wear much more, but November. So.
Oh, look, here's another photo of Raspberry Neddet. Yes, everybody did bang their head on that light fixture. Sue me. Everyone else is. By the way, this picture kills me. What a tableau this is.
Here's Dick Whitman dancing with Fleeta. I should have cranked the lights way up so these pictures would be better. Hey, everyone, screw the atmosphere. I have to blog about this later.
Beauty School Dropout. Yes, my coworker Alex IS beautiful.
Beauty School Dropout II. Also, photography school dropout.
Dude, they didn't even mingle, much less dance. Party Peanuts my ass.
Hot Legs. Dying.
My boss, An Innocent Man, and Marty Martin on the Chain Gang. What I'd like to know is where Marty Martin just happened to have a jail jumpsuit. Also, has anyone seen my ATM card? It was there at the beginning of the party…
Jo as a Cowgirl in the Sand. It is impossible for Jo to look bad.
My delightful table before everyone came and descended on it like hounds. I had bread and different cheeses, and a fruit plate and a vegetable plate, brownies and sausage balls and nuts, including those party peanuts who did not remotely grab any lampshade, and also dips (including that fattening one one of you sent me in the comments, with the bacon bits and cream cheese. Holy mother of pearl. "Is she a big fat person?").
A couple people, including my cute friends Wilma and Sheldon, didn't wanna dress up (Naughty Professor didn't, either) but came anyway, and I was fine with that. Also, I just noticed how much I like Wilma's nail polish. My friends rock.
At the end, Ryan, Tall Boy, Ned and I sat around till the wee hours, and Ned said something absolutely hilarious that he WILL NOT let me tell you, but the fire burned and the music played and we all laughed ourselves stupid, and it was one of those nights where you just feel like all is right with the world. Like our house is a very very very fine house. With 79 cats in the yard.
So that wraps up my party. This is the end. And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.