Holiday Gala / Blood Orange Martinis / A Broken Shoe

Last night was the Vulcan Holiday party. EMP was closed to the public so us Vulcanites can 'get down'. The theme was "Brasilian Carnivale" - and decorated masks were encouraged. My mask was a chandelier complete with crystal dingle-dangles and lights. It was the talk of the evening. I think I had 50 people take pictures and countless questions about how it was done and where the power source was. That was my little secret.

The mask was an awefully heavy mantle of glamour to uphold, but I did it. I turned out the glamour as I do over and over, again and again. It's a thankless job but if not me, then who?

The party was good with good music. I was really impressed with Paul Allen and the Barber Shop Boys... they really rocked! The food was very good too, or so I was told - I didn't eat anything except for a smoked scallop dipped in fennel horseradish (yum). I wasn't very hungry for some reason last night. I also made a conscious decision not to drink at my company party. It was a wise move. There were others who were a little too full of spirit(s) and were teetering on the brink of a CLM.

Of course, the group I was with insisted that I imbibe. Apparently I am only fun when I'm drunk. So I had one cocktail: a fantastic lemon drop martini. It was delicious.

After hanging out and then going through the Sci Fi museum, we all decided to head out to Chapel on Capital Hill. As I was told it was time for me to catch up - and start the "Daniel & Karla Show". The gang was Del & I, Owyn & Steph, Matthew & Erin, Shane & Viv, Karla & Ron, and Dennis & Barb. Chris almost went but I think Beth was a little tired so they passed.

Chapel was crowded but we found a nice table that originally sat only 4 until we poached enough chairs as people stood up and another table to make a nice long table where we all fit. And so it began...

I started with a "Skinny Black Bitch" (Vodka & Diet Coke) which was certain to get me on the road to merrymaking. Then I was turned on to the Martini menu. I went through a few (including a delicious Pear martini) until I came upon my absolutely favorite new Martini: The Blood Orange.

The Blood Orange Martini was to die for; delicious like candy. I am not sure how many I had but the bill was over $100. I was smashed.

In the course of a few hours I managed to behave badly and engage in various scandalous acts. Because I don't kiss and tell I'll leave this to your imagination.

Chapel had last call and closed, and we decided it was time to continue the evening at Neighbors as they were open until 4. Shane drove Karla and I but before we got out of the parking lot, I called this guy & girl over to the window of the car. I don't remember much about what I said but I do remember the guy leaning into the car and kissing me multiple times. I hope he was cute!

We got to Neighbors and I was completely confused as we were in an alley. I'd always gone into Neighbors through the front but this of course led the way to many cute puns about "entering in the rear". There must have been 100 people out there waiting. I engaged in a very nice discussion with a 6' tall tranny. It was then that Viv and I decided that we needed to scratch Neighbors and head straight to the "Wall of Dildoes". We'd talked about it earlier in the evening... Viv had never been (I think Shane was nervous) and wanted to perhaps find a new "friend".

The "Wall of Dildoes" is actually the Castle Superstore, home of every type of sex toy and porno media of all types. It's sort of a tradition for Karla, Ron, Del and I to go when we go out downtown - but this was the time for an entourage.

Shane, Karla and I got there first. We were hanging out in the parking lot... I was spinning and dancing around (not the power move) and then Karla decided she needed to throw up. There's something about being in the parking lot of the big porn emporium at 3am throwing up. Now that's hard core.

The rest of the gang arrived and we went inside. I came upon a tiny 3" dildo that cracked my shit up - so I carried it around and laughed and laughed; knocking things over along the way. Which brings me to the broken shoe.

A few months ago I was in Denver for an important meeting and the entire trip was a fiasco. It started at the airport in Seattle and ended, well, at the airport again - back in Seattle. Nothing went right - but the coupe de gras was when the only pair of shoes I had BROKE the night before the big meeting. It was almost comical.

I made it through the meeting (I walked very carefully) and was determined to take them back to Nordstrom's for a replacement. Well, I forgot about them and realized I didn't have any black loafers to wear to the party the night before. This was a job for hot glue!

I'd used so much hot glue on my mask I had practically become a pro. I carefully glued the rubber sole to the leather upper and it appeared to be the perfect fix. Perhaps it would have been had it not undergone so much abuse that evening.

So there I was flopping around at the Wall of Dildoes with a bastard shoe. I didn't care... I was drunk and sassy and trying to find the perfect vibrator. Well, everything was good until the entire sole came off and I was left with some sort of Fred Astaire soft-shoe number. Del collected the remains of my shoe and we departed. I will never buy Kenneth Coles again.

Ron drove the four of us home... Karla was sacked out in the back seat with Del while I sang Christmas carols and molested Ron. Ron dropped us off at our house and took the Bimmer home. It's still there... we'll get it tonight after Del gets back from work.

So that was our evening. A smoked scallop and an attitude.