burtlo

Friday night started with a a little table-top role-playing. D&D with drinks fit for faggots that like to play grab ass between die rolls. We ended about an hour early, leaving me enough time to pack up a few things and make my way to Portland.

I had previously thought to leave in the morning, but my spidey senses told me, and the latte I had at 6:30PM, that it probably would be wise to find passage through the cover of darkness. I arrived all in good time as well as at a good time. Picking up Penelope at the local Plaid Panty and delivering her and her shapeshifting cuddle buddy to some place titled "North Portland." In all reality it was a few blocks north and away from my original plans but all within the neighborhood of good deeds.

Afterwards we made it back to Penelope Peabody's pad where we meet up with Elisabeth. She recounted some of the horrors of her day as I attempted to gently massage her battle-worn limbs. We curled together under a small gathering of tiny blankets on the mattress and slept until the morning.

We talked. We spent the weekend talking quite a bit with each other. A lot of talking at a lot of times and a lot of places. Brunch plans turned into lunch plans which manifested itself in a small pillow sized burrito that I found no room to finish.

Our consumer adventure started from there as we went in search for scraps of outwear appropriate for the upcoming Edwardian Ball in San Francisco. A great friend, who left Seattle about year and a half ago, invited me to a weekend event in January for the infamous Edwardian Ball and an Eddie Izzard performance. I couldn't help but invite Elisabeth for such an affair. Her, up for any challenge, most happily accepted.

I haven't quite finished any idea that I have started about the costume, but there is a small amount of brainstorming that's taking place in the arena that which is called polyvore. The coat at the moment isn't quite stunning as the one proposed; though I have a tailed one that I wonder if I could retrofit with some flair. The shirt will perhaps have ruffles or some other adornment (Perhaps a white shirt covered in blood).The boots are also placeholders for an actual pair that I own. Flipping back quite a few entries you may have read an entry of mine where I mentioned an Alexander McQueen runway show that was all Edwardian / Gangs of New York. That I see as inspiration.

Managed a little re-arrangement of chateau Penelope and then made a short trek to Devil's Point to see flaming nipples, great tattoos, an ass-trick that doesn't quit getting tired, and a bartender's birthday. We drank down grape lemonades and split between us about 9 singles in stage money. Trading and talking thoughts on performances and skill.

When I returned to the bar for the last time in the evening I found myself sandwiched behind grututous for-show lesbianism. That kind of lesbian that wreaks of really just wanting the cock of the guys that brought them there. They meandered like slow drivers in front of the bar; finishing shots in sips. I exchanged at what I would best approximate is witty bar banter with Gwen, the fire dancer, about airline burlesque and how she honestly was building a lot of hours of instruction in fire safety for small children.

When I bellied up to the bar someone pointed over my right shoulder and yelled at Lisa, the bartender, about it being her birthday. It was then that I started singing happy birthday. By the time we finished the pod around us were in unison and Lisa had slipped around the corner in embarrassment.

Hospitality in the form of Atomicant found us a bed to sleep on and a lunch mate the following day. We went to a small place down the street at a charming intersection of small restaurants. The wind was biting and cold. We made our way into the bar next door, the waiting room for breakfast, and talked about a few things. Gossiped. Made plans for some Rock Band.

I returned to Portland by train. The ride was smooth and comfortable and quite a bit more relaxing then the traditional 75 MPH bore by car. I slept between Vancouver and Olympia. Waking for the remainder of the trip to trade some messages with Elisabeth, browse the internet, and read more about the history of Marriage.

I awoke this morning to the alarm with bloodshot eyes, certain that I had woken up earlier in the throes of some great sex, but found only the cats chirping for food.