Lay my hands on heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars.

[jacktellslies]

Friday was amazing. (There has been more since then, but I've only time to catch you up to a certain point.) My customers were sweet, which is unheard of, and Aiden came to visit, which was awful of her, as she'd brought her guests, visitors from Indiana, Pennsylvania, which is a silly place: if one is near Pittsburgh, why would one not wish to be in Pittsburgh? But, again, it was awful of her: no one's first impression of me should ever be the thing that I am at work: I am made to wear a very orange pair of waterproof overalls, as if I were catching the fish as well as hauling and preparing them, and I tend to be covered in scales and bones and bits of meat. However, perhaps this should be a great many people's first impression of me: for some strange, strange reason, one that makes me doubt my species, dykes seem to think the getup cute. Megan has been telling me this for some time; I thought it just another display of her incessantly bad taste. Apparently, the problem is much more far reaching than I'd thought. So. I worked, and then I went home and drank Jameson in the shower. I went out, and I got lost, walking very, very far in the wrong direction, being yelled at by several large groups of very large men, and eventually being told to meet the group at the next bar to which they were going, which was only a few blocks away from my house. (I am pixieled more often than most people, and I try to remember that I should take that as an honour. But I should also remember to tie a bell to my boot, and to turn my coat. Getting to where one is going should not be as difficult as it usually manages to be.) At long last I met them at Twelfth and Locust and we walked cobblestones to the Tavern at Camac, a place I'd never before been. There were more shots, large ones, and quite a few fags were rather impressed, apparently never having seen an order for Jack and Jameson and Tequila before. When we arrived on the dance floor, a very excited boy that we did not at all know celebrated our presence with shouting and by touching my bum more times than was probably appropriate. I tried to introduce myself, as I sometimes like to know the names of the people who are touching me, and he insisted that his name was Gay Boy. Sigh. His lesbian friend commented that he was even more excited to see us than she was. I danced with a great many bitches, and at some point became drunk enough that I was no longer wearing a shirt and most likely being far too bold. We were all quite drunk when we walked back to Aiden and Meredith's new house, and I walked holding Kerry's hand, but she fell dead asleep immediately, and I found myself with Chrissy, instead, a sort of situation I'd never really expected to experience, and one with which I was greatly impressed. Aiden, please feel free to put me in bed with lesbians I've only just met anytime you'd like. Meow. And thank you.