I couldn't walk down 14th Street this weekend without walking into a large, scary looking leather daddy, a slave sans ballgag, or a horrified tourist. Good Times. Yeah, the Mid Atlantic Leather Conference was in town, and I actually went on the "Meet the Meat" bar crawl this past friday. I knew that I could have gotten myself into real trouble, seein’ as how I dressed up like a gay 70’s teensploitation movie character. I was all sorts of varsity football jersey, shaggy hair, and rope handcuffs. Lets not forget the belt buckle in the back that Caitlin decided was just straight up “pornographic.”

Bitch was right, and I was hot.

Miss Meg came with me dressed in a sequened scoopy bra and leather pants. She looked hot as fucking hell, and honestly, the girl's body is ridiculous. I couldn't have asked for a better drinking buddy, seein' as how the minute we go to the Washington Plaza the straight bartenders were buying us rounds. We made one hell of a pair, tricked out football player and awry cheerleader.

We stayed at the Plaza long enough to get macked on by older gentle men, but no one of note decided I was the hotness, so we moved on. My fragile little ego needed to be stroked (yes, ego, not that) so we hit the Green Lantern and Titan, too. Lantern was excellent, and I made out with a boy for fun. Figures, he was the only one there who was clearly not there for the leather scene. He had gotten lost on his way from JRs, I imagine. Poor cute, tallboy.

I’m lame enough that the fact that his name was also the title of a Newbery award winning book made me want to make out with him even more. I suppose if I was going for the self-referential grade school sex look, a Newbury winner would be perfect.

Alas, bad kissers sometimes have great names, so it was back home and back to Yums for detox and rehashing. Meg made her way to the bathroom to relieve herself of a cocktail or two, and managed to sleep for a short bit on the bathroom floor. Yikes. I passed out somewhere between the Tivo and the radiator, with a jug of water next to me. I found it in the morning, but couldn’t find my voice. I reckon that’s why the slaves didn’t have ball gags, one night out, and even this loudmouth couldn’t talk the next morning.

One of the hot things about last night is that there were quite a few pictures taken of Meg and I, so somewhere someone is ogling us in posterity. Hot.

Damnit all. It's snowing.

Not that I don't love that floatly white stuff, but couldn't it have waited for me to get to work? I don't wanna walk down Rhode Island Ave in this.

Yick!

Its still snowing, and I'm slightly damp.

I didn't stick around too long at work today, 'cause my manager pissed me off pretty much as I walked through the door. Granted, I'm nicotine free and not drunk, so I'm a little irritable, but still, I was entitled to this pissiess.

I was the second person to get to work today, and I ended up with a section I don't particularly like, so I tried to change it. Reasonably fair, right? In first, seniority, a bunch of different reasons for it to be okay that I change the floor plan. The hostess didn't feel comfortable doing that, since she didn't actually make the seating chart herself, so she went and asked Ennis, the slovakian cock, for permission.

(The hostess had already put someone ahead of me in rotation, stupid bitch, but I digress...)

Anywho, the slovakian cock told her a resounding no, so I went to confront him. I, acting like Madonna when her publicist told her to give up acting, told him to give me one reason why not. He didn't have a reason, but still wouldn't change it. I called him a shitty manager, and told him I would speak to his manager. It wasn't a faboulous drink-throwing bitch-down, but it did make me feel better. I asked if I wanted to leave, and here I am.

Jerk.

Maybe I do have an attitude problem.

Its still snowing.