Table for Two. . . or Three. . .

Anyone have personal experience with demonic possession? I don't want to sound like a total boob when I put together a short story about it, and don't want to merely be an Exorcist ripoff, since I doubt it's -that- dramatic all the time.

-yr. friendly neighborhood open-minded skeptic

Dante, you pussy.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Fourth Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Extreme
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Extreme
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very High

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Goodish Friday

After tucking ladysoleil and katyakoshka in relatively early on Thursday, I woke up early on Friday, and with the aforementioned denizens, as well as theonebob and angelsil, the other Room Of Doomers, we headed out to the Bally's Breakfast Buffet after only minimal cat-herding and hangover delays.

Bacon, shrimp, hash browns, and strawberries. . . if I had had a hangover, it stood no chance. The announcer of death during the endless moving sidewalk must die.

"Free Shirt!" "Free Drink!" "Free Willy!" (okay, maybe not)

I wandered back to the hotel, and meandered around, saying hello to various and sundry questionable characters before making my way to the meet & greet and the horde of freaks so gathered.

I ran scared from the prospect of Karaoke, and made the first of many trips to the bar where the jumbo pink flamingo things were served, along with the most random of unbelievably hot acquaintences, Jennifer from Chicago. We took the bartender's advice after a ten minute queue and got Miami Ice, a pina colada / strawberry daiquiri hybrid, which was darn tasty. Jennifer's abundant feminine chams coerced an extra shot into our drinks and, so encumbered, we headed back up to get our laminates.

We were promptly thrown out by a small, bitchy asian woman. "NO OUTSIDE DRINKS!" Uhhh, whatever, lady. Undaunted, we went around the other side, and promptly smack into the middle of the chaos and confusion that was the laminate distribution fiasco. Ended up hanging out with my buddies whippingboy, Lasher & Pained in line, making rude comments, and eventually getting our asses laminated.

We then proceeded to herd cats, along with hellsop, Dragon, and a few other folks, to get some kind of meal. I have absolutely no idea as to what we did for dinner that night, and that's not attributable to alcohol consumption. After consulting other people's travelogues, I now recall going to the Flamingo's dinner buffet with Dragon, Margaret, Angel (not sil), her BF Trevor, missmorte, katyakoshka, and a couple of other folks, and basically getting medieval on some dead cow, crab, and shrimp.

After dinner, Missmorte & I adjourned to her room to prep for the night's festivities, which basically entailed our sitting on the bed, watching hockey, and then casting verbal aspersions at her ex, Perki, via telephone.

Once it had been ascertained where the shuttle bus was going to pick up the freaky hordes, we made our way down, and stood outside. And stood outside. And stood outside. At last! A black shuttle bus pulls up. . . but it's not the one that the committee has chartered. Moments later, the official shuttle -does- pull up, and I don my organizational, "I want to fucking get there already, kids" jackboots, and make a very loud command decision.

"Okay, everybody who's paid for the shuttle bus, get on the official shuttle. the rest of you, we're splitting the forty bucks it costs to hire this chariot. driver, FOLLOW THAT BUS!" [rafe proceeds to get tossed around the interior of the bus while collecting donations from the passengers, which went very well - thank you to everyone who chipped in, i only ended up couging up extra for the driver's tip]

Walked in in time to catch all of Original Sin's show, which was the only part I had much interest in on a personal level [DC Andi (whose LJ tag i forget) angldst, baobh and angelsil's participation being primarily why].

There was much eye candy to be admired, and then scowled at for admiring. Look, babe, just because I have the temerity to look this good in a linen skirt and a rude black t-shirt that took less time to put on than one of your boots and a pony fall, don't get your hate on when I admire your packaging and have the gall to smile and say hello. I'm actually surprisingly pleasant when you're not putting more energy into maintaining your balance and air of affrontery than it would take to smile, say hello, and return my introduction.

On a side note, the two young ladies bartending that night, while welcome to perform with some Wesson and a Twister board on my patio ANY time, are possibly the least-capable bartenders i've ever encountered. Seven bucks for a Southern Comfort and Red Bull is steep but not unreasonable, but when it takes two people to figure out how to make one, and then barely wave the liquor at the glass, I get miffed. That was the only drink I purchased at the venue for the duration of the weekend. My sobriety undoubtedly contributed to some of the early departures.

Had the fine pleasure of renewing acquaintences with many more friends, including the inimitable gargoyl, who is a hell of a lot taller than I remembered her. :-) Spent a fair amount of time with Whippingboy just utterly taking the piss out of one another, much to the amusement, shock, and chagrin of our audience. Met up with Keith and Kendra for some adult bonding, and made certain to purchase a bus pass.

Home, a bit of socializing with the Room of Doomers, and then to bed after enjoying some garlic breadsticks, jose cuervo, and gatorade. Saturday would prove to be interesting.