I'm going back down the Hole for most of today, because it's the Actual, Honest-to-God Last Day and so why not? But here are some random observations from last night's party before I go. I'll write a real post (or several) later on:
1. Red was not admitted after all. I was shooting when she got there and she was intercepted before I even got her text. So I didn’t meet her in the parking lot like we planned, and I didn’t get to She-Hulk escort her through the door. But she didn’t make a scene, cause a ruckus, or kick a fuss: she Rose Above. Good for you, Honey. Everybody missed you and everybody loves you and everybody knows what really happened – except some people seem to think it happened on the pool table, but whatevs. ;-)
2. That woman never could sing to save her life.
3. That woman still can’t sing.
4. There was cake. I didn’t get any. But apparently, there was cake.
5. Bootgirl stole the M&Ms for me. That’s a good friend, right there – and it’s a good story, too, actually, so I’ll save the punchline and write the whole thing later. Suffice for now to say I love her for the impetus, but I never got the fucking candy, either.
There. Now you-all can't-unsee it, too.
8. Cow moose in breach labor. Swear to god.
9. I could've made it an even half-dozen in the parking lot if I wanted to. Not like I didn't have the invitations. Hell, I could've made it an even dozen if I wanted to. But it was cold.
And last but not least…
10. Two new friends from the New Hangout came up to me towards the end of the evening and announced they figured out the identity of the Kid. Oops. I didn’t know it was a mystery. See, "the Kid" is not just a pseudonym I gave him for the blog – like "Bootgirl" is – it's what I really call him, and I thought all the local people reading this already knew. Well... I guess they do now! Anyway, it's not like I didn't ask permission to write about him before I started. What I actually said was “I’m starting a blog about my life up here. And if you don’t mind, you’ll probably end up in it.” His answer, without skipping a beat, was, “Well I should hope so.” I didn’t know, myself, at the time, that it was going to end up mostly about him, but I've told him since. He knows. And I think he actually likes the idea. But he doesn’t want to read it. And to tell you the truth, I'm happy with that. Because this way I can say whatever I want and not have to worry about what he'll think. And neither of us care what the rest of you-all think, so there.* I don’t know if he realizes how many of you are reading it, however, or who. So if you run into him, play nice. And tell him his Old Lady says hello.
*Just kidding. Of course I do. I love you all. Now beat it, 'cause I'm going to shoot pool.