Still Coming To

My boss' birthday party/Amanda's going-away party Saturday night was actually a real hoot. Introvert that I am I don't often take up invitations to hang with the staff outside of the proverbial office too often, but damn if it wasn't the best laugh I'd had in several dreary weeks of, uh, not laughing quite so much. We had 20 people from my store and the Barnes & Noble next door, with whom we sometimes share staff so we've had this sort of symbiotic/incestuous partnership for years. And as it stands, the B&N is staffed almost entirely by gay men and my record store is staffed primarily by lesbian women, and somehow I wound up at the end of the restaurant table with all the gay men who as the night progressed (or regressed however you wanna look at it) good-natured words were exchanged between both warring sides and, well, gay men I've noticed have often had the advantage of dishing the dirtiest, and my straight ass was on the floor seized with the kind of hysterics I haven't felt since the last time S. and I hung out with Sef. You just don't know how much I needed to be there that night, kiddos. You. Just. Don't. Know.

You know what else kicked ass this weekend? Getting a couple 'a primo Death Match compilation burns from Greg T. in my mailbox! Thankyouthankyouthankyou, dearheart. Not to get all mushy on ya, but knowing that you're out there makes me feel all happycakes inside. :-)