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22 february 2002
| mini update Hi Denizens. I'll be back on the site next week. I've been battling my first full-on flu in years, holding steady with a 100-101 fever. So much for that flu shot, huh. Ever had something where even your skin hurt? Okay, then. Welcome to my week. Catch you later. It was an interesting and eventful weekend. I attended a big party on Saturday night, sponsored by the place at which I'm contracting. Before showing up at said party, however, I had to take care of some...uh...stuff. Namely, I had to prevent my low-cut jumpsuit from flying open and exposing my modest assets to the coworkers. Under normal circumstances, this would not happen. It generally stays where it needs to during the important business of eating, walking, and drinking. Dancing, however, is another thing entirely. And darn if I don't like to cut a rug. It's a form-fitting number, so I can't wear any sort of bra. That's out. I can't even wear those stick-on things, because then if it flew open, people would get the double-giggle of naked AND adhesive bra. Yick. I called Victoria's Secret and Frederick's of Hollywood with a mission. "Hi. I need to make sure an outfit sticks to my boobs. Do you guys sell body glue?" "What? What's that?" "Okay, thanks. Never mind." Almost desperate, I call the local craft supply store. Now, if you've ever been to one of these places, you know that I had to watch how I phrased my request. This is a retail staff of quilters and scrapbookers, people. They're in the business of styrofoam pine cones and Elvis-by-number cross-stitch patterns. I could send one of them into a coronary over my desire for a sticky bosom. "...Uh, hi. I need to speak with someone about glue. You see, I have an outfit that doesn't fit quite as, um, snugly as I need it to. Do you have any glues that are both skin- and cloth-friendly that might do the trick?...Yes, I'll wait." Hysterical laughter ensues at the cash register. I take comfort in the fact that they're probably wearing homemade rhinestone-studded sweatshirts. More waiting. "Ma'am? We don't have what you're looking for. All of our glues melt with body heat, as far as I can tell. Have you thought of some nice angel pins to hold everything up?" "Thank you for taking the time to look. Have a good day. Bye." Now, I'm really grumbly. I want to wear my totally cute outfit, but I want to WEAR it, you know? It then occurs to me that I live in a town with several gentlemen's clubs. Where there are gentlemen's clubs, there are dancers. And where there are dancers, there are pasties. Which brings me to a little sidenote. You knew North Carolina was famous for Krispy Kremes and cigarettes. But did you know we're also the home of one of the world's largest mail-order enterprises for consenting adults? (Hey, don't click on this link if you're at work, dip.) Not only is headquarters practically down the road, but there's a retail location three miles from my house! I called to confirm that they had what I needed. Into the car I went. I was a-gonna get me some pastie glue.
When I arrived at the store, it was pretty crowded. And brightly lit. Great. Should I call Mom now, or when it hits the society column? Cripes. I discreetly tell the lady that I was the one who called... "Oh, YEAH! YOU'RE LOOKING FOR PASTIES, RIGHT?" "No, just the glue, thanks." "Cause we've got these here on sale. They're red, with sequined tassels!" I grabbed the bottle of latex-based glue, paid, and slinked back to the car. Applying a bit of the glue to my hand, I succesfully stuck a shred of paper to the hand. Right on! There will be no peep show tonight! Here are my instructions:
So, with everything stuck and put on and hair combed and lipstick applied, I was sufficiently party-ready. I went to Friend Q's house (the same Friend Q who took me here last year), and we were off to the races...er, party. We entered the party, it's a company party, blah blah blah, and eventually we end up at the tarot reader's table. Of course. Because my life is just...that....way. The nice lady throws down the cards. She tells me that love and romance is showing heavily in my reading, and would I like her to go on? Not seeing any death or joker cards, I kick back and say, "sure". My jumpsuit is still on, and I haven't applied a lampshade to my head yet. Why not? "You have two people in your aura right now. One is very immature. He's not the one for you. (And considering the date I went on a couple of weeks ago, score one for Miss See-O.) The other person, this is a good one. This one will come to you in the near future, but is right now far away from you. Be patient. Uh, okay. While I'm being patient, can we get another beer over here? She continues with some stuff that was just a little too accurate for me to spill here. Personal characteristics, mind you. I dunno, maybe she's just a real good read on human nature. But considering how she nailed Friend Q, I was more than a little wigged out. I returned to the chocolate fountain, slim jumpsuit or not, and shoved a few coated marshmallows into my mouth. Danced with a guy who keeps trying to pick me up in the Y free weight room. Party ends. We end up with a nightcap at the favorite local pub, and into the bed I fall. But not before following the rest of the instructions:
Note to self: apply bamboo shoots to nails. More comfortable than peeling off breast adhesive. Have acquired increased respect for pastie dancers. Twirl away, baby. Y'all just keep on twirlin'. |
