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party girl
Jun. 3rd, 2001 05:03 amSo I did indeed make it to the party...
I left a little before 9PM, which got me to downtown Orlando at about 1030PM. I was able to park within a block of the club, which was good... I hate having to walk long distances when I'm alone downtown.
I wore a burgundy pageboy wig with some extensions attached to it - the kind that are scrunchies made of messy spiky hair, and then have longer braids dangling from them. Regular makeup - neutral shadow, red lipstick, etc. My black silk cheongsam, which is cut very high on both legs, and a garter belt and stockings, and black platform sandals. I also took a lace shawl, but I ended up not really needing it, and it spent most of the evening tied around the strap of my little black moiré satin purse with thistley-flowers embroidered on it. A guy in the elevator of the parking garage asked me how long it took to do the little braids in my hair, and I said with a grin, "It took five minutes to buy the extensions."
So basically, what went down when I got to the club is that S did not immediately recognize me, and I didn't see him for a while, and when I did I was kinda loath to go up to him at first because this girl was with him... L. L is really nice, but she's dated like half of my ex-boyfriends and I've always been suspicious of the speed with which she moved in on Psychoboy years ago, after her constant expressions of concern, which I later assumed were more like corpse-circling. Nevertheless, she's fun, so I needn't have worried. I circled! I waited! I tried to get S's attention surreptitiously! No such luck. I ordered a weak drink at the bar (and stumped the bartender! nobody drinks a Pink Lady anymore, I guess... he had to look it up... this particular thing had so little alcohol in it that it had no effect on me... which is what I was going for)...
I finally screwed up my courage and came over, toting my martini glass of fabulous pink frothy stuff. Everyone was playing pool. I blow at pool, seriously. I am so bad that nobody ever lets me play and thus I never get any better. I scratch, I sink the other team's shots for them, I sink the cueball, and I'm pretty sure I could repeat the stunt a friend of mine pulled a few years ago where she sent a ball sailing across the bar. So I mostly stood around and chatted and watched and met people.
Eventually there were bands. The first was very grungey, the second was a nice african fusion percussion thing. The friend who had organized the whole shindig was especially proud of the latter band and kept asking me if I was having fun. S. disappeared at some point so I spent part of the night hanging out with I and L and so on... all of whom remember me from HS glories... so interestingly enough, they attach my high school talents to my present appearance and tastes, and judge me very kindly I think. It was nice.
Finally found S., who walked me to the parking garage. I shared the elevator on the way up (I was on the roof) with about six girls who were severely fucked-up. I don't know if they were drunk; I think it's more likely that they were on E or something. The wide-eyed and grave girl standing immediately to my left started stroking my hair and then asked my permission to touch it, and I said sure, whatever (I mean, how harmless). They got off the elevator at the third floor, thank goodness. Otherwise I might have had the lot of them following me to my car, mesmerised by the ruby wig glow.
Uneventful drive home. I took off my wig and changed into my workout clothes in the car, which was actually really easy to do because of the construction of my dress. Stopped at Disgusting Fast-Food Restaurant on the way, and actually ate my entire meal. Weathered a number of catcalls through the course of this paragraph's events. Got home around 440AM.
and yeah, it didn't hurt to go. whee....
oh, speaking of catcalls and street harrassment: earlier this week, I don't remember which night, whenever it was that we went to Target and a bookstore, we left the bookstore at closing time. There are only two major roads between there and our house, and they form an L. So we were on the leg that goes to the east, just after leaving the store, and this car of guys who either left at the same time that we did or pulled up near us when we turned onto the road started honking and yelling out their windows and stuff. Then when I ignored them, they got behind our car and started to follow us! We finally lost them when we got to a train crossing a little ahead of them and pulled off and turned around.
But, I mean, sheesh. Boys should not do that. I'm cute but that shouldn't qualify me for being followed. Anyone want to be my bodyguard?
I left a little before 9PM, which got me to downtown Orlando at about 1030PM. I was able to park within a block of the club, which was good... I hate having to walk long distances when I'm alone downtown.
I wore a burgundy pageboy wig with some extensions attached to it - the kind that are scrunchies made of messy spiky hair, and then have longer braids dangling from them. Regular makeup - neutral shadow, red lipstick, etc. My black silk cheongsam, which is cut very high on both legs, and a garter belt and stockings, and black platform sandals. I also took a lace shawl, but I ended up not really needing it, and it spent most of the evening tied around the strap of my little black moiré satin purse with thistley-flowers embroidered on it. A guy in the elevator of the parking garage asked me how long it took to do the little braids in my hair, and I said with a grin, "It took five minutes to buy the extensions."
So basically, what went down when I got to the club is that S did not immediately recognize me, and I didn't see him for a while, and when I did I was kinda loath to go up to him at first because this girl was with him... L. L is really nice, but she's dated like half of my ex-boyfriends and I've always been suspicious of the speed with which she moved in on Psychoboy years ago, after her constant expressions of concern, which I later assumed were more like corpse-circling. Nevertheless, she's fun, so I needn't have worried. I circled! I waited! I tried to get S's attention surreptitiously! No such luck. I ordered a weak drink at the bar (and stumped the bartender! nobody drinks a Pink Lady anymore, I guess... he had to look it up... this particular thing had so little alcohol in it that it had no effect on me... which is what I was going for)...
I finally screwed up my courage and came over, toting my martini glass of fabulous pink frothy stuff. Everyone was playing pool. I blow at pool, seriously. I am so bad that nobody ever lets me play and thus I never get any better. I scratch, I sink the other team's shots for them, I sink the cueball, and I'm pretty sure I could repeat the stunt a friend of mine pulled a few years ago where she sent a ball sailing across the bar. So I mostly stood around and chatted and watched and met people.
Eventually there were bands. The first was very grungey, the second was a nice african fusion percussion thing. The friend who had organized the whole shindig was especially proud of the latter band and kept asking me if I was having fun. S. disappeared at some point so I spent part of the night hanging out with I and L and so on... all of whom remember me from HS glories... so interestingly enough, they attach my high school talents to my present appearance and tastes, and judge me very kindly I think. It was nice.
Finally found S., who walked me to the parking garage. I shared the elevator on the way up (I was on the roof) with about six girls who were severely fucked-up. I don't know if they were drunk; I think it's more likely that they were on E or something. The wide-eyed and grave girl standing immediately to my left started stroking my hair and then asked my permission to touch it, and I said sure, whatever (I mean, how harmless). They got off the elevator at the third floor, thank goodness. Otherwise I might have had the lot of them following me to my car, mesmerised by the ruby wig glow.
Uneventful drive home. I took off my wig and changed into my workout clothes in the car, which was actually really easy to do because of the construction of my dress. Stopped at Disgusting Fast-Food Restaurant on the way, and actually ate my entire meal. Weathered a number of catcalls through the course of this paragraph's events. Got home around 440AM.
and yeah, it didn't hurt to go. whee....
oh, speaking of catcalls and street harrassment: earlier this week, I don't remember which night, whenever it was that we went to Target and a bookstore, we left the bookstore at closing time. There are only two major roads between there and our house, and they form an L. So we were on the leg that goes to the east, just after leaving the store, and this car of guys who either left at the same time that we did or pulled up near us when we turned onto the road started honking and yelling out their windows and stuff. Then when I ignored them, they got behind our car and started to follow us! We finally lost them when we got to a train crossing a little ahead of them and pulled off and turned around.
But, I mean, sheesh. Boys should not do that. I'm cute but that shouldn't qualify me for being followed. Anyone want to be my bodyguard?
