Silly announcement of the day:

Pixie Stix & Q got married 24 days ago & I'm still wearing the turquoise nail polish that I put on that day to hide the traces of black nail polish & to less-than-stylishly match my dress. Only now it's hidden under two coats of badly peeling black. Ironic, no?

October 13, 1998.

I should be working on the essay that's due tomorrow, but what the hell. I think you all need to know about my nail polish much more than I need to pass a lousy 3 page assignment on Greek Drama. Although I don't think that my professor will accept that I worked on my similarly-named diary instead of the course. Nuns are like that.

Actually, they're not...I just wanted to say "nuns are like that." And now that that's over, we can concentrate on other matters, right?

Yesterday's weekly excursion to the Dance Cave took some interesting & unexpected turns. First of all, the Thanksgiving holiday meant that Trevor could actually attend, although he was a pretty sleepy bunny. We ended up leaving the Cave around 1 a.m...a somewhat less-than hardcore night.

The second interesting thing is that Snag Boy came with us to Sneaky Dee's for beer & catch-up conversation. He'd phoned earlier in the evening, looking for a relaxing night in with a movie, but we compromised between Caving & couching. I was mightily impressed that he'd called...my own hectic schedule seems to be matched by my cast, since no-one's called me except Sister Sunshine & Trevor & they don't count. Felt a touch guilty that I had other plans, but I think he had a good time. Between the three of us, we'd demolished a huge plate of vegetarian nachos & gotten well into a second pitcher before the third surprise of the evening...

Poet. With Wallace. Kicked out of Ein.stein's, they'd washed up on the shores of Sneaky Dee's, looking for beer & wings. We made room for them in our booth, and traded pleasantries, barbs & gossip until it was time to go dance. Trevor took the opportunity to get nice & loaded, since he knew only 2 out of 5 people really well and I shouldn't count as one of them. By the time we left, his nose was numb at the tip, a sure sign of drunkenness. This was also his first real opportunity to interact with Poet, although not much interacting went on. In a way, it's almost a repeat of Christina the Shameless night, in its evocation of past lives & past identities. Almost, but it missed by a rather depressing mile. Thank god.

And then, for the final surprise, some bitch at the Cave burnt my hand & sent an ember down my dress because she was carelessly dancing with a cigarette. I've got a hole in one of my favourite black dresses now. Grrr. I guess I should count my blessings that I wasn't wearing Jain's PVC skirt...I might've gone up like a torch.

one year ago today: tragic lack of bullshit buffer