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.

Some 28 year old college chica just got 18 months probation for selling faux Duff beer. She was forced to reimburse the purchasers, to the tune of nearly 2k. I wonder what beer she used to fake it? I guess it doesn't matter, aside from the 18 months, they're makin' the bitch see a shrink. I still think its a good idea-- whatever.

In real beer news, apparently Coors Light and Molson are thinking about merging. Don't fret, you didn't miss the memo, both are still lame. I mean, think of the list of beers that you get with this new SuperBrew company? Molson Canadian, Coors Light, Carling, Keystone, Aspen Edge, Zima, Rickard's and Kaiser... would you honestly wanna order any of those? Ugh, bring me a Chimay!

Coors, Miller Lite, Zimas... they all kinda fall into the same category in my mind, watery and cheap. Little Miss Smokey said it best: "I drink Miller Lite when I'm actually thirsty and at the bar. Its not like I'd order it if I ever wanted a beer." Word. It is drunk water as far as I'm concerned, but if I'm ever near an avalanchable area, I'm gonna be sure to bring plenty of one of the new SuperBrews. It could save my life-- over somewhere in Europe (where is the Slovakian Cock from, anyway? Czech Slovakia? Ugh, I'm dumb) a man drank 60 beers and pissed his way out of an avalanche that covered his car. Apparently he drank and pissed so much his liver and kidneys hurt.

Buddy, I know your pain. Hmmm, how can I work this into casual discourse? I gotta go melt the snow?

Remember all the bangs and bruises I had a few weeks ago? They told me that perhaps I should find a new passion, a new love.

Gin and I broke up last week.

Gin has hurt me too badly over the course of this year, the realtionship requiring more from each of us with each passing month. I can't do it anymore. The neighbors were going to begin to wonder who was beating me up so badly, and since I can't remember most of the time, I wind up having to fill in the blanks with partial information. You can't say that Gin did this to you. Domestic disturbances are soooo 1997 Lifetime movie.

Lifetime movie or no, after a long bit of thinking I've decided its best if Gin and I saw other people. She needs to get out there and live her life and make new friends. I need to do the same, so Bourbon and I are buddying up.

Bourbons a tough act. He's rougher around the edges than my girl Gin, but we seem to get along well. I can tell that we're having a good time together before I ruin it by spending tooo much time with him and making it all awful.

And, I can still wake up at 9:30 on my own after a good night out with him. How cool is that?

Caitlin: (15:19:15): that's a yes, prepare the bong bitches

Me, a week earlier: AGH! Lesbians on my TV!
Lauren, today: Finally! Fags on your TV!

Showtune for the evening:
From Mame, (go download it!!):

Bosom Buddies

We'll always be bosom buddies. Friends, sisters and pals
We'll always be bosom buddies
If life should reject you there's me to protect you
If I say that your tongue is vicious
If I call you uncouth it's simply that
who else but a bosom buddy will sit down and tell you the truth
Though now and again I'm aware that my candid opinion may sting
Though often my frank observation might scald,
I've been meaning to tell you for years you should keep your hair natural like mine.
if I kept my hair natural like yours Id be bald.
But darling
If I say that your sense of style's as far off as your youth, it's simply that
who else but a bosom buddy will tell you the whole stinking truth
Each time that a critic has written your voice is the voice of a frog, straight
to your side to defend you I rush.
You know that I'm there every time that the world makes an unkind remark, when
they say Vera Charles is the worlds greatest lush it hurts me
and if I say your fangs are showing Mame pull in your claws it's simply that
who else but a bosom buddy will notice the obvious flaws
I feel it's my duty to tell you it's time to adjust to your age, you try to be
pega my heart when your lady Macbeth.
Exactly how old are you Vera the truth
how old do you think
Oh, I'd say somewhere in between 40 and death
But sweetie
I'll always be Alice Tokeless if you'll be Gertrude Stein and though I'll admit
I've dished you, I've gossiped and gloated but I'm so devoted
And if I say that sex and guts made you into a star, remember that who else but
a bosom buddy will tell you how rotten you are
Just turn to your bosom buddy for age and affection for help and direction for
loyalty love and for soothe remember that who else but a bosom buddy will sit
down and level and give you the devil will, sit down and tell you the truth.

When the streetlights outside hit the trees, and the shadows reflect onto one my windows, sometimes it looks like a monster waving just inches from the pane. The trees on P Street really are comforting, both in the day and at night. I don't mind the monster waving at me-- its like an old friend saying "Hey."

The snow has melted quickly, though its not as if the inclimate weather made much of a dent on my weekend. I made it to the National Aquariam with Marky, and we saw some excellent fatty invertibrates. Petrochirus diogenes, apparently. Just a good long day with a friend who I haven't spent a helluvalot of time with in a while. We even made it up to Adams Morgan to attack Toledo Lounge, catching up with Jordan and the boys. Mark and I won bragging rights by guessing the most Oscar Winners correctly AND we also have the high score on Q-Shot and Wordster. Granted, we were playing against straight men, but whatever. We're winners.

Good stuff. I guess this has been a swimming week for good buddyness.

Hawaii in two days.

Sorry, princess, this is my house.

When I came home from vacation there were beer bottles on my coffee table, my pasta had been eaten, cocktails had been made and not cleaned up... my house was worst than how I left it (which is sayin' something, bitches).

Lee broke in through the fire escape and stayed the night one night. He cleaned up after himself and refilled ice trays. Exactly as I would have expected him to. The neighbor girls came over and watched TV another night. They drank a little, but came back to clean the next day. Exactly as I would expect them to.

When they arrived, windex and paper towels in hand, the door quickly locked-- deadbolt and doorframe. When they knocked, no one answered. Yet, obviously, someone had just run to the door to lock it! The neighbors yelled in "Lauren, it's just us! We're here to clean up our mess!"

After some presistance on my neighbors part, some asian bitch with short hair answered my door in a towel and wouldn't let them in. Wouldn't even open the door at first. She told them to go away, that she'd clean up. That she was a friend of Kelley's.

Kelley does not even have a key to my apartment.

Lauren left her keys with Kelley. Who then gave them to Amanda for god knows what reason. Amanda, the asian bitch with short hair, let herself into my apartment. Who knows for what reason or for how long. Fucking whore. I'm livid. Not only did she not clean when she left, she lied to Kelley (or I hope she lied, and that its not kelley doing the lying) about the way shit went down, and I feel kinda violated.

Clearly the amount of people in and out of my apartment, sans bitch, lends you to the notion that I'm really not super troubled by guests. I'm not. If you are welcome in my home and I gave you a key, and I happen to be in Hawaii, please let yourself in. If you don't have a key, you call and ask if you can come over while I'm gone, I'll put you in contact with someone who can let you in for whatever reason. Or I can say no. This stupid fucking slut of a human doesn't even know my last name and certainly doesn't even have my cell phone number to give me the courtesy of telling her hell the fuck no.

Hell, the person she said she was a friend of doesn't even have a key to my apartment! If you're breaking into my home and lying to my friends, please AT LEAST know who's key your using to break in! Being 4 degrees of separation away from me does not allow you into my personal spaces. Thanks.

She also didn't leave a note. You always leave a note!

The folks had their 23rd Wedding anniversery last night; it doesn't get more romantic than the first day of spring, ya'll. They're coming into the District this evening to hang out and have dinner and I'm really very excited, not having seen them in a few months and all. They should be here around 7:30, which means I am gonna miss happy hour on my only day off. I'll manage.

Puja is going to be returning my cell phone to me tonight after I go to dinner with the family. She's had it since February 26th-ish, so I'm really, really excited to have it back. I can't believe I went nearly a month without it, without killing myself.

I've spent most of my time with the improv kids, the neighbors, or the neighbors and the improv kids together, so its made the lack of phone calls much more tolerable. I know what its like to just go a knockin' on my friend's doors now. Its like the olden days!

Smarter boys would learn to watch what they type when posting to the interweb, but unfortunatly I'm sometimes a bit of a dim discoball. I referenced the Foggy Bottom Alcoholics Anonymous on here and had to explain to someone in real life that I wasn't in AA (not that I shouldn't be). Its a term I use for my friends who happen to go George Washington University, a lovely school in sunny, gorgeous Foggy Bottom).


Fucked up and funny, I can't claim to have coined the term. Last Halloween Julia, Cole, and a few others made T-Shirts that said FBAA and wore them out boozing. Fake names on the back, they took it the whole nine. A lot of people apparently missed the joke while they were out and proceeded to be ghastly offended.

I'm telling you, I could hear the story twelve times and still have beer come out my nose. Fantastic shit, ya'll.

Equally fanastic is the 14th Street Christian Youth Association moniker that we've got going for the neighbors and me. Sometime around the time of Bush's inauguration, the neighbors and I stumbled upon Nascar Poetry through Nill's. One of them even had a link so that we could request a free poem. We couldn't help ourselves:




Date: 1/23/2005
From:
Reply To:
To: qdesigns@islc.net
Subject: requesting free poem

Miss "Trish"-

My prayer group and I were inspired by your eloquent writing and wondering what poetic sentiment you could offer us directly after the auspicious re-inauguration of our wonderful president. Any inspired words you could offer us would be much appreciated!


Yours in Christ-
Michael Hall and the 14th Street Christian Youth Association
<><




So, thats that.

Celebrated Margarita Monday with Markie on the fire escape. We tended to the garden, which is just a' sproutin', and invited people over to partake in our tasty frozen libations. Mark's boyfriend Sean came over and played for a bit before we all went out seperate ways. Thats as sure a way to a friendship as any. He also turned me on to an online comic I'd never seen before: Alien Loves Predator. Word.

Remember that movie with Jude Law and the kid from the Sixth Sense? In it there was this bitchin' teddy bear that I wanted so badly, and now I think they're making something like it for real. It may even trump Clocky in the department of cute things I want now.

Check out this groovy article about robocats, and go to paragraph 7. Teddy Bear robots! Granted, the cats were described as "some come-alive stuffed animal from a high-end horror movie," but that really is fine with me. I doubt my teddy will come a knifin'.

I did go a knifin' last night at Skewers, though. I went with Geoff, my girl friend Meg's brother-- he's a logan circle hood rat, too, and we're buddying up. We smoked at his house before going down for grub, and I was handidly baked. No questions asked, no fuckin' around. The foods was good, and I was shocked that it had taken me so long to go there. Its right above Luna Cafe, so its not like i don't eat over there all the time anyway.

I wouldn't be surprised if every single post for the next few whiles starts with some adorable picture of Sebastian. Like the one above. We love Sebastian.

The Fourth of July festivities went off mostly hitchless, if not bitchless. Dana, Krista, Tabby, Cherese, Janine, Norma, Uncle Pappy, Uncle Mark and Aunt Karin, Aunt Debbie, and a few others came down, and everyone behaved exactly as they always do-- take it or leave it. For those who I'd rather leave, I cry bullocks. For those that I enjoy? Glorious.

On Friday, Julia called and asked if I wanted to get a little afternoon drunk. Duh. Well, afternoon drunk turned into a revolving door of people in and out of my house, killing off 3 cases of beer and eight bottles of wine. My friends rule. I was D-U-N done around 2:30am, but made it another hour. Woke up on my couch with a put away puppy, so the party counts as a complete success. 12 hours of solid drinking? I don't care if it was unplanned, that counts as a frickin success.

Works fucking sucks big wookie right now. I hope it turns around-- but in the meantime, I reckon I'm day job hunting. We'll see. I'm skeptical that things'll change, but I don't wanna jinx anything. I'd rather look at silver linings. Like yesterday, getting cut early from work because we only had 60 tickets sold, that was a blessing (though, I'm still really, really, really pissed about the whole thing). I got to take the puppy to his Uncle Geoff's to go play inside. He went totally nutball cornwallace crazy with all the new things to play with. He also tinkled on the rug TWICE. Puppies are not allowed at Geoff's anymore! Not until he's a big good boy (not just a little good boy).