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Last night, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aishlynn and I had guests in from Houston over to party - our friend L, her houseboy (C), and her boyfriend (G)- as well as Jeeves from down the way. Jeeves and I made an early provisions run [chips, salsa, Mike's Hard Lime, and Abita Amber] before company arrived, and proceeded to hang out, play video games, and have a couple Mike's. L & C arrived shortly before K got home from working late, so it was a warm welcome for K after a long day at the office. Laughs were had, C took a nap [he'd done the driving from Houston, and was bushed], shots were had, more laughs, more shots, music, and general good times. G called, having taken a nap at their designated crash coordinates, and it was time to doll up and head out.
K showed off her new birthday corset, I threw on my Utilikilt and the obligatory "Have you nailed your messiah today?" t-shirt, and we set off to the FQ to meet up with G & G. A quest for Lambic ensued, which involved a lot of walking only to end up in scenester hell at the foot of Decatur Street for overpriced, but very tasty, raspberry brew. Command decision time - "We're going back to the Dervish [the freak club]; extract L and let's move." Several blocks later, and incited by questions about my behavior at C5, I was compelled to break into song near Jackson Square to prove that a) I have a hell of a singing voice, and b) at midnight on a Friday in New Orleans, any suitably voluble renditon of the first line of "The Banana Boat Song" will get a half-dozen responses from complete strangers half a block away.
So, to the club. 80's night. Proof positive that enough social lubricant makes anything a good time, I danced my ass off for three hours straight, despite being really warm, and good-naturedly needled by a random guy for being tortured and angsty. "Actually, I'm having a great time, but I'm trying to wipe the sweat out of my eyes!" Being in the company of the two best-looking women in the joint certainly didn't hurt, either.
3AM rolled around, Jeeves and the Houston contingent wanted to hit Harrah's Casino; K & I begged off and came home, since she had to work this morning. [UPDATE: Apparently, L hit the jackpot on the penny slots on her first dollar, and won enough to basically pay for their trip. Rock on!]
Slept late. Pooped. Sore legs from dancing are the only hangover. Taunted mom that it's "sit by the pool and get some sun" weather here and they're forecasting snow back home on Wednesday. Cleaned up the legion of empties we'd generated [nine Mikes, several Abitas, the last sixth of a fifth of vodka, and a whole bottle of Tuaca], finished the book I'd been reading and resumed the middle of the other one I'd left in the car.
Happiness is no hangover, pleasant soreness, and being two pounds [and a cubic metric fuckload of mental angst] lighter.Call it "axissilverhandTherapy."
aishlynn and I had guests in from Houston over to party - our friend L, her houseboy (C), and her boyfriend (G)- as well as Jeeves from down the way. Jeeves and I made an early provisions run [chips, salsa, Mike's Hard Lime, and Abita Amber] before company arrived, and proceeded to hang out, play video games, and have a couple Mike's. L & C arrived shortly before K got home from working late, so it was a warm welcome for K after a long day at the office. Laughs were had, C took a nap [he'd done the driving from Houston, and was bushed], shots were had, more laughs, more shots, music, and general good times. G called, having taken a nap at their designated crash coordinates, and it was time to doll up and head out.K showed off her new birthday corset, I threw on my Utilikilt and the obligatory "Have you nailed your messiah today?" t-shirt, and we set off to the FQ to meet up with G & G. A quest for Lambic ensued, which involved a lot of walking only to end up in scenester hell at the foot of Decatur Street for overpriced, but very tasty, raspberry brew. Command decision time - "We're going back to the Dervish [the freak club]; extract L and let's move." Several blocks later, and incited by questions about my behavior at C5, I was compelled to break into song near Jackson Square to prove that a) I have a hell of a singing voice, and b) at midnight on a Friday in New Orleans, any suitably voluble renditon of the first line of "The Banana Boat Song" will get a half-dozen responses from complete strangers half a block away.
So, to the club. 80's night. Proof positive that enough social lubricant makes anything a good time, I danced my ass off for three hours straight, despite being really warm, and good-naturedly needled by a random guy for being tortured and angsty. "Actually, I'm having a great time, but I'm trying to wipe the sweat out of my eyes!" Being in the company of the two best-looking women in the joint certainly didn't hurt, either.
3AM rolled around, Jeeves and the Houston contingent wanted to hit Harrah's Casino; K & I begged off and came home, since she had to work this morning. [UPDATE: Apparently, L hit the jackpot on the penny slots on her first dollar, and won enough to basically pay for their trip. Rock on!]
Slept late. Pooped. Sore legs from dancing are the only hangover. Taunted mom that it's "sit by the pool and get some sun" weather here and they're forecasting snow back home on Wednesday. Cleaned up the legion of empties we'd generated [nine Mikes, several Abitas, the last sixth of a fifth of vodka, and a whole bottle of Tuaca], finished the book I'd been reading and resumed the middle of the other one I'd left in the car.
Happiness is no hangover, pleasant soreness, and being two pounds [and a cubic metric fuckload of mental angst] lighter.Call it "
axissilverhandTherapy."
