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Guest
Guest
Well, I’m drunk. But not morose. Feel very good indeed. Went to a Christmas party hosted by my former Shakespeare prof. and mentor, now dearest friend. I’m writing this in Word (haha, wrote Wrod) so I can edit for awful typos, etc. You’ll have to take my word I’m drunk.
Rose made a wonderful Champagne punch and I drank lots. But I also had really good food (crab things, Brie stuff, Middle-eastern delights, superb chocolates). Still, I’m not used to drinking this much in a few hours’ time.
The male guests were mostly older gay men, really sweet guys from Rose’s church (the Catholic gay one in the Castro). There was one woman younger than me, she had a great mouth and brashness I found sexy. She’d heard there was a nun among the guests and asked if I was it. I set her straight. Whatever.
One non-gay man was especially attractive in an intellectually sexual way (perfect combo). He looks like Sub Joe with short hair, and we talked about Shakespeare. His wife was there too. I liked her well enough but I was so close to taking Mr. Sexy aside and asking for a dalliance. Still thinking about it, but once I sober up I’ll be good.
Everyone wanted to know about my trip to Venice and Yorkshire and so I ended up telling them I write erotica, blablabla, and explaining how it is ten strangers are planning to meet in West-fucking-Yorkshire. (Mr. Joe seemed to perk up at this, the erotica bit, hahaha). He and Mrs. Joe gave me a ride home as they live just a few blocks from me (Ho ho ho). I brought home a large bowl of the Champagne imbued fruit which I will have tomw. morning for breakfast. (Fuck, I’ve corrected a typo every other word so far.)
I feel really good to be alive and on holiday. I rec’d a nice PM when I logged on. Having a cuppa tea and a smoke. Off to lurk.
Perdita la Borrachita

Rose made a wonderful Champagne punch and I drank lots. But I also had really good food (crab things, Brie stuff, Middle-eastern delights, superb chocolates). Still, I’m not used to drinking this much in a few hours’ time.
The male guests were mostly older gay men, really sweet guys from Rose’s church (the Catholic gay one in the Castro). There was one woman younger than me, she had a great mouth and brashness I found sexy. She’d heard there was a nun among the guests and asked if I was it. I set her straight. Whatever.
One non-gay man was especially attractive in an intellectually sexual way (perfect combo). He looks like Sub Joe with short hair, and we talked about Shakespeare. His wife was there too. I liked her well enough but I was so close to taking Mr. Sexy aside and asking for a dalliance. Still thinking about it, but once I sober up I’ll be good.
Everyone wanted to know about my trip to Venice and Yorkshire and so I ended up telling them I write erotica, blablabla, and explaining how it is ten strangers are planning to meet in West-fucking-Yorkshire. (Mr. Joe seemed to perk up at this, the erotica bit, hahaha). He and Mrs. Joe gave me a ride home as they live just a few blocks from me (Ho ho ho). I brought home a large bowl of the Champagne imbued fruit which I will have tomw. morning for breakfast. (Fuck, I’ve corrected a typo every other word so far.)
I feel really good to be alive and on holiday. I rec’d a nice PM when I logged on. Having a cuppa tea and a smoke. Off to lurk.
Perdita la Borrachita
