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Wednesday |
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Nothing like waking at noon hungover to firm one's resolve. It occured to me that the best way to do POD consistently is to do it first thing, even if that means squinting hungover through rainy day noon glare. I have no one to blame but myself, James Kirchmer, and the free well drinks at last night's Stranger Christmas party, which despite the tone of sodomite secularism was not without its miracles. F'rinstance, my vodka tonic slipped off the flusher but landed upright in the urinal, without spilling and I didn't get any piss in it. Heartened, I went back into the fray where an anonymous Polaroider took my picture after I lit her cigarette. The flame you see is the same which lit her fire. After giving a stranger a hickey because he asked for one (and I wasn't the first to platonically suck his bruised neck), a group of naughty boys camped by the bathroom laid the King of Dees on me--although not strictly found I add it proudly to my collection. Things got silly when the only thing which irritated management more than my smoking a prescription cigarette was when I thoughtlessly snubbed it on the table (she told me to put it out!). She screamed for a bouncer, threw my smoke to the floor (horrors!), and handed me to the barback who commandeered my fresh drink (horrors!) and passed me to the doorman who gently (we'd hit it off when I came in) escorted me to the sidewalk. All ended well, however, when the carny freak in drag who'd taught me how to stiltwalk at Burning Man's Camp Suckee Fuckee this year came around the corner with my snubbed cigarette. We lit it, laughed, and James finally made it out after dutifully finishing both my drink and his. |
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