I got to leave work early on Friday because we had that office luncheon thing. It was this gay little affair at Chammp’s in Pentagon Row to commemorate our old organisation. We did an re-org a few months ago, and now people who used to work together, don’t work together anymore. Kind of like pier changing, except it’s more permanent.
The lunch was over at 2, but what sense was there in taking 30 minutes to drive back to work, 10 minutes to get into the building only to turn back around and leave at 3? I was laying on my couch by 230.
Friday night I went out to Ascension. Super goth night. I was hoping to see Dennis since I won’t be able to attend Ascension for the next 3 weeks, but when I left around 1230, he wasn’t there. Surprisingly, I had a great time and really enjoyed the music. I guess I was in the mood for goth. Even Cardinal Sin didn’t make my ears bleed like he did last time I heard him spin.
The only thing is that he insists on travelling with his entourage of bawdy, over-estrogen-ed lesbians. The first group of tarts were there before I arrived. I had seen them before, and they didn’t get on my nerves as much as they did last time. But the second group, the horridly dressed, young girls who looked like they just stepped off the bus from Wesleyan– they were the ones who really irked me.
First, they insisted upon standing DIRECTLY in front of me. It was like the Berlin Wall of Fat. I could see neither around nor over them. One of them kept stepping on my foot. Since I was sitting in my usual spot before they arrived, they should have been the ones to take up post some place else. They had that not-really-comfortable-with-the-scene look about them. Girls get this look all the time when they are some place they have never been before and they are not really sure how to act. It causes them to travel in groups. I guess they feel safety in numbers. They all went to the bathroom at the same time and they all went to the bar at the same time. It was like a herd of Holsteins seeking out greener pastures.
I make fun of the way people dress for several reasons. It doesn’t really have anything to do with being able to afford the highest in fashion or anything like that. Most of the time, it has to do with the level of one’s own comfort. Sometimes you can tell by the way a person is dressed if they are comfortable in their own skin. Sometimes I make fun of them because clearly they thought they had a winning outfit, when in all actuality, they failed miserably. And sometimes I make fun of dress because you can just tell a person doesn’t give a damn.
They just didn’t care. One had on a pair of woogie slides, you know those hideous black slippers with the white stripe across the band? I hate those shoes. When I am ruler of the universe, I will ban these shoes from existence. In high school, the cholos would come to school with these atrocities on with gleaming white socks and dickies. Nothing says, “Hey, I’m a fat slob who doesn’t care about my appearance” more than a pair of these slippers. Honestly, who goes out in house shoes? Unless you’re running up the street to the market or something.
The other girl wore busted Vans that had clearly seen happier times. She also had on a pair of pants that were entirely too large for her. Congratulations on your weight loss, now let’s try a belt or better yet, pants that actually fit because I’m tired of looking at your ass crack.
Bad hair. Jeans with the hems worn down. Frumpy sweatshirts.
Yeah, you think I’m a terrible person for saying all these things, but you know what, I could really give a damn. Since it’s only the local neighbourhood bar, I didn’t expect anyone to come in their prom dress or anything, but I think taking the time to A. brush you hair, B. put on shoes other than the ones you wear in your shower, and C. wear a pair of pants that don’t reveal your buttonhole isn’t too much to ask.
Eventually the quartet of frumps removed themselves from field of view when one of them said, “That girl keeps on staring at us.” Sorry. Your herringbone farmer’s button-up had me hypnotised for a minute.
Bellatrix LeStrange was there again. I always approve of her method of dress, however, her shoes are an abomination. Unfortunately, she selected a style that is wildly popular in the freak set: the platform.
Sorry, but 1975 is long gone. I know that the platform shoe has come in and out of style over the past 30 years, but out of style is where it’s currently residing. Can the freaks get up on this? The worst part is that a lot of delicate girls wear this shoe and it makes them look like a clodhopper. They will wear some beautiful ethereal dress or a skin-tight form-flattering leather or PVC number, but then ruin the whole effect with a pair of stacked boots that turn them into the Bride of Frankenstein.
This many freaks cannot have polio all at once.
Along with the house slipper, stacked heels and platforms will also be burned at the stake: Transmuters, clunky-heeled Destroy boots and every pair of Hot Topic rejects will be included.
On a side note, the door girl’s hands were actually warm this time. Usually, she has hands like death. When she reaches for my hand to stamp it, I cringe because it’s like a Dementor sucking out my soul.
I got up for aerobics like I normally do. I’m almost to the point where I can handle the hour long step class. I have to quit after about 50 minutes because my heart feels like it’s about to explode, but I’m getting there.
I went to a toy party with Ceciley at her cousin’s house. This is the third toy party I’ve been to, the second in the past month or so. This toy party was way better than the last one I went to. It didn’t have anything to do with Tykeisha or anything. The girl that gives the party, Syreeta, or whatever her name is… She was nowhere near as good as Christy, the girl who did the party at Chante’s house. They work for different companies, the products are all the same.
It was the presentation. Syreeta was informative, but Christy was demonstrative and suggestive. Christy was also super sexy. You look at a girl like that and you automatically think sex, whether you are gay or not. I did not know anyone at Chante’s party but Christy made us do naughty ice breakers and we found out a whole bunch of stuff about each other we probably shouldn’t know. I think that got people in the mood. I knew everyone at Tykeisha’s party and we did not do ice breakers, and the mood was more like break room chilling.
Like I have mentioned a million times before, I am not into sex toys. I did not buy anything, but after Christy finished her presentation, everyone (except me) bought at least $100 worth of stuff.
Next year when I have my super extravagant birthday gala event, I think I will hire Christy to give a presentation. I had kept Syreet’s information, but Christy has the goods. And I think her prices are cheaper… I’m not sure, since I didn’t buy anything.
Anyway, the toy party lasted longer than expected so I didn’t go to Midnight. It was almost 12 when I left Chante’s house, and then it was pouring down raining. I wasn’t really in the mood to try to find a parking space on L street, especially with the rain and everything. I said fuck it and went home. I had like 14 hours worth of Law and Order to watch, plus Ugly Betty.
That was my weekend. Next weekend is drill. Ugh.
But after that…………… Chicago!!! I can’t wait.
My birthday is in 2 1/2 weeks. I’m going to be 99 again.