The Good, the Bad, and the Fabulous

Last night I upped my serotonin output at XES celebrating birthdays of Michael the Good, Patrick the Bad, and Jase the Fabulous. Trust me. Anyone who remembers this can back me up. Of course, he has his own definition of good. I would refer to him as skilled. We lamented the fact that his recently upgraded citizenship status renders our marriage unnecessary. I was so looking forward to wearing the tux. Oh well. If you still want to register at Bloomie's, let me know. These two can give us pointers.

Although, in defense of Patrick's goodness, I don't think he started the frosting-fight. I was too involved in re-living my high school days with the 80's music videos, and didn't see exactly how it started, but I think Patrick was the first one to have frosting on his face. One of the highlights of the evening was watching a very coy Greg lick it off. Ever so delicately. That boy is demure like Melanie Hamilton. His ears were red! Come to think of it, Patrick's were pink. Yes, very nice, good boys. Patrick the good and Greg the gentle. Between them and the Long Island Sweethearts, there was a lot of love in the room. It warms my sometimes frigid heart.

Oh lawd, that frosting. Oh man. I haven't decided yet if I need to run three miles to work it off or go get another cupcake first. There was a banana cake with buttercreamy frosting, and those mind-blowing cupcakes, chocolate cupcakes, from Billy's Bakery. You know, Jase has done this to me before. The last two times I've seen those damn cakes, Jase is in the room, and it's on a day when I've already pushed my calorie allotment TO THE SKY. And every time, I still wind up eating them. Damn Billy. He hates me and wants me to be fat. I know it. Either that or my mother has a secret life. Oh the hedonism of Billy's frosting.

And I had been doing so well! All I had for dinner was a shot of bourbon and water. Until that cake arrived. Oh well. Dessert! Hedonism. Bourbon and banana cake. I called Crash once I was slightly smashed and expressed my sadness at missing him. And gloated that I was eating cake and he wasn't. My Eric Cartman moment of the evening.

Oh and Kevin - do you know how many blogs on the internet have "deviant" in their title? Shameful. Seems everyone is a deviant these days. Actually, correction: everyone wants to be thought of as a deviant these days. Which is a powerful statement about the mainstream. But I digress. I think you should change your blog name to Deviant Darling, because you are SUCH a one.

At some point, everyone should get to see Jase dance. Mm. That slinky body of his has rhythm. He is long and muscly and supple like a snake. Damn boy. Pump it up jes like dat. Fabulous is the word.

My favorite country music fan was getting his groove on, shakin' his hips with that hawaiian lei around his neck. I'll bet he can come out of a Texas dip after four mint juleps, but those hula moves were a fun surprise. I was shakin' my hair to the Go-gos, while the "Our Lips Are Sealed" video played on the wall. I was overcome with a sense of nostalgia - happy nostalgia - man, I pretty much never have happy nostalgia. I was so into the Go-Gos. I used to dress like that when I was about 13, all black with my hair ratted and tied with a ribbon, my eyes caked in kohl liner. My mother had heart attacks. There was my metal phase too, with the bandanas tied alluringly high on my thigh, and my black and purple shirt with the sideways zipper neck. God, bondage lite at 12. I had so much fun and was so clueless. Which is probably why it was fun.

Gotta give some snaps to the DJ, even the bad music he played had funny videos. I was missing Bob's snarky commentary. I think JC Chavez's haunting rendition of "All Day Long I Think About Sex" might have brought out the best in him. That video is so retro-80's that for the first few minutes of it Kevin and I were very confused. Ugh.

I was going to email this chick when I got home, but I fell asleep on the metro-north train and almost missed my stop. Such the lightweight I have become. G was beaming when I fell into his car. "I see the boys gave you a happiness-infused evening of fun!" he said. "Yeah," I sighed. "They're good for that." G steered us over the Tappan Zee, pointing the air conditioning vents at me. "Good, good," he chuckled. "You needed this." I tied my sweaty hair in a knot and closed my eyes. "I love those guys," I drawled, as G fiddled with my knee, and I snoozed the rest of the way home.