I am sick (pun partially intended) of talking about my stomach, so let's talk about something else.
I have no sex stories to share. Sex-with-myself stories could be interesting, but I'm too much of a lady to share those sorts of details.
Tonight is the 15th anniversary party of King V's company. We're having a shindig that includes wine, violinists, and food cooked by Mack Daddy Smooth, who happens to be a bitchin' chef. I think it's going be a swanky hoedown. I'm changing into fancy schmancy clothes later (including HEELS). For now, I'm in fashions designed specifically by Comfy, Inc.: jeans, Birks, a goddess t-shirt. Pretty typical if you know me.
So what else. My house is a wreck. That's pretty standard. I moved my bed around the other night and found a bottle of lube under the mattress (on which I sleep, by choice, on the floor) that I didn't realize I'd misplaced. Some of it had leaked onto the carpet (oops), but it's water-soluble, so it'll clean up pretty easily. The cats were sniffing the wet spot and I just had to stifle a giggle. So many jokes, soooo little time.
My CD is done and ready to go. Instead of going the more expensive and techie route of having it mass-produced, I think I'm going to take the time to burn about 50 copies and just get the CD out there. I'll probably mass produce later down the line; depends on how quickly these first 50 or so copies go. I have people requesting it already, which is immensely flattering, and the local homo bookstore said they're interested in selling it, so I just need to get those copies burned and out of here. I was designing the artwork for the cover and liner notes last week but I didn't like what I came up with for the actual CD label, so things are stalled a bit. They're also stalled because I'm waiting on a paycheck before I can buy the aforementioned labels. It's great to get that non-rent paycheck, but not great when said paycheck goes flying back out into the world in the form of utility bill, credit card, and car insurance payments, among other things. It's been awhile since I felt panicky and broke. I don't like the feeling and I'm not sure how I spent 2.5 years of my life working at a job that guaranteed I would get the dollar bill smackdown twice a month. I was never able to do fun stuff on the basic spur of the moment, like drop in a store and buy a CD or go out to dinner with friends. Speaking of...
I went to Outback with some friends last night and had a really great time. In fact, I was so entertained that I was really surprised when I got in my car and saw that it was almost 9:45. I got home a little after 10 and promptly picked up The Talisman again (almost done; I'm up to page 425 or so) and made it until about 11:15 before I couldn't stay awake any longer.
12:30. I'm hungry. I guess that leftover bean burrito from Taco Bell wasn't enough to eat. I'm looking forward to the good eatins' MDS is putting together for tonight's party. I get to mingle and talk to clients and other guests, drink a little wine, and smile a lot. As King V has repeatedly told us, this is not a party for us -- we are to mingle and talk to people and not sit down and enjoy ourselves; we're working, goddammit. I just plan on migrating towards people who are already sitting down and engage them in conversation. I don't suppose Dad will casually drift over and yank me to my feet as long as I'm chatting up all the influentials. Employees wearing heels should automatically get chair privileges, don't you think?
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