Notes on the Party

     I’ve been to a million of em, and I have never seen anything remotely comparable to what I saw last night.  I felt like I was in a movie.  And for the first time in–God! YEARS!–I actually had a little performance anxiety.  Those women were off…the…chain. I felt like I should have asked for their autographs or something.  I wanna hire them for myself–and I don’t even like girls!  And the guests!  And the sets!  

       Guests had to pay a hundred bucks just to get in the door.  Let me tell you: money well spent.  

     At least it broke me out of my alcoholic death-spiral of terror a little bit.  The shit I witnessed last night was pretty distracting, to say the least.  I was so astonished that I must have looked a little bit like a tourist from PoDunk, Oklahoma (which, I guess, isn’t too far from the truth) because on two different occassions  I was approached by a woman who worked there and asked if I was enjoying the party (I was) and whether I’d like a drink (uh, no thanks)–they thought I was a guest.  

       I think I am going to have to brush up on my skill set to be successful there.  Like, I need to learn how to fly, and shoot laser death-rays from my eyeballs, and how to safely set people on fire.  They have training sessions on a regular basis where the management brings in instructors from the magic school in the Harry Potter movies.  


      I took a bunch of photos but I don’t want to publish any of them until I see the ones that are going to be published on the website or used for promotional purposes.

      Oh yeah, something else happened–it’s kind of personal, but what the hell.  After crying and eating gummi bears on the train, I no longer have any dignity or reputation to lose.  I finally got my period for the first time in months.  So I am thinking that maybe that utterly wretched emotional state might have been augmented by hormone fluctuation.  I don’t want to promote any sexist ‘women’s hormones make they unstable’ bullshit, but PMS really can make you a little blue.  I haven’t been menstruating much, so I don’t think about it.  Starvation makes you blue, too.  So does booze.  YAAAAAY TRIFECTA!!! MISS MARGO WINS!  Wait–what’s my prize?   

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