Last night was a ton of fun. My only regrets are that we didn't stay longer and that we chose Denny's for our post-party meal. White Castle would've been a better option, me thinks. Probably not for poor Jimi, though, so maybe it was for the best.
I piggy-backed Karen most of the way to the car. We were obnoxious with the police officers standing outside the club; but a good kind of obnoxious, the sort that had them laughing along with us. There was no threat of handcuffs or pepper spray.
Everyone loved Jimi's costume. Several people approached and asked to take pictures of/with him. It was pretty damned impressive - as soon as Karen and Gary wake up today, they should be emailing pics so I will have evidence to back up all this smack I'm talking.
We saw part of the drag show, twice. I gave a couple of dollars to a man named Hurricane dressed as Tina Turner who sang a song about not being able to eat a big hairy beaver. A tall black woman came on stage in a barely-there pair of boy shorts and a couple of ammo belts and some big black X's made from electrical tape across her nipples; I don't care if she did have a penis, her body was smokin'. A couple of guys dressed in elaborate get-ups consisting of black leather and mirrored light-up panels and a scepter and mirrored masks watched the show in front of us, and everyone in our group wondered what they were until Karen and I finally asked - Lady Gaga. It was a total OH YEAH moment after they told us; once you heard that, it was obvious. One of the performers in the show was not a drag queen - he was a ridiculously sexy muscular pretty boy with dance moves that made me remember something Tabitha once said to me when we were watching a man dancing at a bar: "If he can move like on a dance floor, imagine how he moves in bed." Indeed. This man was fine, and while he started out his number in jeans and a t-shirt, those were done away with quickly and nothing but a little black g-string remained to protect his privacy. Watching the huge lines that formed where men and women waited their turn to stuff money into his man panties, I'd say he did quite well for himself last night. And I wonder how many of those dollar-bill-stuffing hands tried to wander and cop a feel?
We danced a little. I'm a horrible dancer, but after a few shots of tequila the atmosphere of the place was getting into my blood. I start watching all these people move to the beat and I can't stop myself from moving too, even if I know I look like a fool. No one else cares if I look like a fool, either; no one is paying attention to me. I'm invisible.
Jimi's helping Steve put up a fence today. I'm supposed to be working on work that I've brought home - a month's worth of trailer movements that are supposed to be entered every day but I've not had time so they've just been piling up and now I have to go to another one of those meetings in 2 weeks and getting this shit entered is just the beginning of what i've got to get done and oh my gosh if i think about it too much i might explode...
I'm going to get this one part done. Then later this week, I'll get the next part done. And so on and so forth.
And when i finish this part today, i'm probably going to spend the rest of my day getting high and playing Sims 3. And then I'll eat all the Halloween candy before the trick or treating starts and we won't have anything to give out to the kids and I'll feel like a jerk and they'll egg our house and cars.
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Please don't make me cry.