Tag Archives: stogie

…And Then The Alcohol Punched Them In The Face

1 Jan

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Listen: it became the tiniest of gatherings, ringing in the New Year…after a rehearsal, straight to food buying, straight to cooking, straight to eating. 

In the end, it had been deemed the better idea, allowing us to dress in clothes of our preference with zero pomp and circumstance, while getting as embarrassingly drunk as we wanted to, with zero reputation-slaughtering repercussions.

…Marty n’ I were well into the champagne, laughing at “Legally Blond,” tripped out in various pj attire and shoving eleven kinds of food in our faces like Hoover vacs…mostly getting it in our mouths…when a call came in from one of our most beloved “Twelfth Night-ers.” So we whooped loudly, everyone talking at once over speaker phone, while cackling dirty laughter with our mouths full of chewed up food bits, when our “Joe” arrived, fresh from Party #1, in his three piece suit, bow tie and fedora. 

…The slobs embraced him thoroughly, and provided him with his own bottle of alcohol, and he, in turn, popped the cap, immediately proceeding to make out with said bottle mouth for the rest of the night…like those couples who can’t keep their hands off each other, only getting worse the drunker they get.

…But because, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” I cannot disclose the full beauty of what happened afterward…having nothing at all to do with sex, but everything in the world to do with the greatest hits of being totally trashed with people who you trust.

It was magical.

…And upon command of, ” We have to DO something when the clock strikes…a gesture…something to really punch it and make it matter,” an idea was put out on the floor to do a symbolic slaughter. Something of the past year, or an idea, or a thing that has haunted us that we want to start the New Year totally free of: write it down, then all rush outside, light the New Year stogie (saved for just this occasion), and pass it amongst ourselves as we light and watch disintegrate, that crappy whats-it from our past.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

…In a cold cloud of relief.

…Then back to the drinking as regularly scheduled…”Galaxy Quest” and “Back to the Future” tag teaming the TV in the background.

It was a night of a thousand giggles and guffaws, with tons of surprising moments of delighted “yay.” I may never know how long it truly lasted, as I peeled away at ’round 6 a.m…to pound water and pass out on a soft surface.

…To bed and to rise, with this crazy bright New Year sun screaming at me, and liquor corpses in the living room…which I should really do something with, but I figured they are well preserved, so can prob’ly wait at least as long as the length of a blog.

For reasons that don’t at all add up, I haven’t got the faintest tummy oots, or brain pain. It’s prob’ly that whole side of cow I ate that soaked up all the toxins, so I’ll have to remember to light a candle for it later…before confession.

…Keeping to tradition, Marty will bounce up with eyes round as saucers, blink a couple times and ask, “what’s happening, what’s next?” Cuz she’s the only human being I know who can get totally blitzed…not ONLY without repercussion, but can get by on 2 hours of sleep after it, waking up with the innocents of an infant, ready to start the day.

Our “Joe” being a new team member, still has the Jury out in debates.

…But either way, we had a helluva time…able to be the most basic us-like us’s, with complete freedom of safety, in a warm little house, stocked full of goodies to imbibe on, and beds and pillows to swallow us up afterwards.

A Happy New Year to you all! Hope your Alka Seltzer breakfasts and bed-buddies treated yuh well.

…And so off I go, to administer to the dead.

~D

First Dress

4 Nov

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Hello civilians, and welcome to first dress rehearsal. 

…Our call is late, due to blocking of the the theatre’s follow-up Holiday show taking place on the same stage, directly before our call.  In short: the December show is running about on our stage right now, (as we once did to “Sherlock”)…and will continue until 4:30…at which time we begin arriving in shifts in various states of makeup and hair, to tag-team, sort out some adjustment fittings, and ship things directly out into the makeshift on-site alteration and stitching department currently holding state in the lobby. 

…As of yesterday’s costume parade, I had nothing to wear but my corset, shoes, and stockings. They are still piecing my blacks together, built in copy pattern to a gray dress I tried on a little over a week ago, whose color was veto’d but style and fitting was approved.  Will be doing my hair and makeup at home, to avoid time-crunch and also have a slew of my own outlets for various curlers and irons, as I invent the styles to begin with. Plenty of elbow room, music, and pictorial inspiration on the internet, ready on my computer, at click-command.

…Also, right now: a stew is cooking in the crockpot.

Got up this morning to make a cup of coffee, and feed meat and veg into the slow-cooker, before surveying the damage of last night’s spur-of-the-moment mini party. 

A couple of casties, (post eats, post cue-to-cue), didn’t want to give up the ghost quite yet…so I rushed home to prep their arrival, and make sure we had enough mixers.  Many talks on many subjects, with “Anonymous” on in the background, a shared stogie on the back patio, a trip planning thrown out there, and YouTube vomits of the most ridiculous videos we know of, that we feel compelled to force other people to watch and thus be forever equally scarred from, for life.

…Marty, I think, wins for that South African husband and wife freak-team.  And you can wonder at all it’s wrongs here, should you choose. (Their “Ninja” one is as least as horrifying.)

I need more coffee, but the last bag of beans has been killed, and I mourned it, even before this one cup was done perking. Thus, I am forced into tea…which is lovely when you want tea, but when you want “coffee” there is no solace to that desire unless you feed it what it demands.

Coffee is very S&M that way.

4 hours and 24 minutes left on the stew clock, and a sink-and-a-half of dirty dishes to see to.

…But first: heat some water, pop in some “Shakespeare In Love” or “Stage Beauty” or “Henry V” or “Richard III”…or any of the eleven-hundred others keeping to the current theme…take a walk, take a shower, and set my hair to begin the regime.

This is one of those days where you spend almost all of it, just prepping for the end-game…as first dresses always have, and always will be.

~D

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