Much Better Than Expected

Last night's PMR fucking rocked. Robyn Jeffrey is a good writer and charming reader, and David Scrimshaw is right, she *is* a hottie. All three of the PMR touring crew (Hadassah Hill, Jesse Dangerously, Cort Bulloch) were entertaining and fun and nice and a pleasure to host. 25 or 30 people showed up, the crew made a good haul money-wise and sold enough stuff to maybe help pay off the car rental. I felt vindicated: it certainly made up for the fiasco that was May's PMR. Venus Envy is a great place to have readings.

Then a bunch of us went to Club Soda, which is everything stereotypically bad about a gay bar. Steve and I stood around awkwardly and talked about how long it would take for us to get over how bad the music was and dance just to be doing something other than hating the music and the over-smoky, trying-too-hard cheesy space. Hadassah leaned over to me and said, "Yknow, this isn't really my kind of gay. I'm glad there are so many different ways to be gay, and that some people can be gay here, and I can go be gay somewhere else." Using her newness, cuteness and extreme charm to my advantage, she managed to rally the troops and hie us off to kareoke.

I thought I would not enjoy kareoke, but not enjoy it less than I was not enjoying Club Soda. I have, in fact, begged off going to kareoke before. But I had a great time. That might be partially due to the beer.

Or to the fact that, in a very uncharacteristic move, I pushed a cute girl into a bathroom stall and bit her neck till she pulled away, pressed her face into my stomach and called me dangerous.

Nice to feel like a little bit of trouble, even if that was more than likely a little drunken hyperbole.

And I love kissing. Man oh man, do I love kissing. And neck-biting. I love me some neck-biting.

In possibly related news, I had my first post-breakup belly laugh today. The Grs and I were talking about acronyms, our current favourite being CT*, and Greg said "Soandso always used to say, 'Well, that's a CLM." Career limiting move."

"Huh," I said.

"Ha," Grace said.

"Then she got fired."

It felt like I was stretching a small forgotten muscle.

*CT = crazy talk. As in "Dude, that is just CeeeTeee."