September 07

I'm very fortunate to have a circle of friends who, if a little peculiar at times, are really nice and thoughtful people.

My friend Marion decided this morning that I needed a surprise party, so she got together with the rest of this bunch to throw something together -- no mean feat on a Federal holiday, a day I was working, and in a public place. Her method was rather elegant; she invited me to dinner at the Prudential Center Food Court, a place we've gone several times.

Once there, while I was distracted ordering, she texted the rest of the miscreants, who were waiting on the outdoor terrace, to let them know my arrival was imminent. They lit up the candles and we were drawn to the right table by the flames billowing forth. The candles burned brightly, and as we were slightly delayed, they did a number on the cake itself (see above).

Still, it was a lovely party, and really a most marvelous surprise. Gay people often say that they're lucky, in that their friends are their family, and they get to choose that family. I'd point to today's surprise party as proof that the sentiment rings true.

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April 11

If you're wondering why Belynda is hiding behind a drinks menu ... well, join the club.

Belynda had a birthday last week, and Marion (of Script Frenzy fame) decided that she needed a little birthday party. After batting around various ideas (visiting the IMAX theater, Jasper White's Summer Shack, etc.), we settled on going to Longhorn Steakhouse for chicken parts and assorted dinner stuff.

We took two separate cars to get there, and our original party of five expanded a bit with the anticipated arrival of Tom's girlfriend. After originally requesting a table for seven, we hurriedly revised it to eight after I realized that, being a liberal arts major, I couldn't count straight. (I rarely do anything straight.) Eventually, eleven people showed for the party -- and honestly, I couldn't have had more fun while remaining sober.

Our waiter Jason (nicknamed Spunky almost immediately) was pure eye candy. A nearby waiter, Duane, was nicknamed Studly for similar reasons. When Sparky the Waiter appeared, and one poor unattractive man we called Scary, we had a virtual platter-carrying boy band on our hands.

I got Mary Anne, who is very shy and says she's sexually frustrated, to leave her number on a napkin for Spunky, with the entreaty to call her. We very nearly got Marion, who has a thing for somebody else, to leave her number for the cute waiter Studly, but she demurred. Happily-married Belynda settled for pressing her girly parts into me for a couple of minutes (eat your hearts out straight men!), and to coin a phrase, a good time was had by all.

Considering the widely-held opinion of Script Frenzy and National Novel Writing Month participants as socially-awkward, it's amazing how much fun we can really have when we let loose. :-)

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