Man, it has been a weird weekend. Last night I went out to dinner with Emperor Zorg and two of his minions; tonight I was in the Land of the Lost Bluegrass Boys. So I have spent two evenings in the company of many, many single heterosexual men. And yet, do you think I got hit on? You underestimate the strength of the Repell-O Rays! Felicity's patented Repell-O Rays were working at full strength again this weekend, and succesfully repelled not only Emperor Zorg and his henchmen, but an entire testosterone crazed party of acoustic musicians. It is a miracle of modern science, no doubt.
So, last night my new friend S. invited me out to dinner with her friend Emperor Zorg and his two new housemates. I went happily and really I shouldn't be so bitchy, because they're actually very nice guys, I'm sure, and I really like S. a lot, she is very great. The only thing is, her friend, the head guy, who I have been subtly referring to as Emperor Zorg, is from LA and has no sense of humor, and his two friends/housemates deferred utterly to his every move. They didn't drink, they talked about poker for two hours straight, and it was a little strained. I can't even play poker for two hours without a break - and talking about it? Yow. Then it turns out that they're all alumni of some "spiritual" school with a Hindu name, which is the kind of thing which usually sends me fleeing back into the outer darkness from whence I came. Mentioning the soul is always the kiss of death at a dinner party. Especially when you get into, as I of course did, an argument over the state of Hunter S. Thompson's soul. For the record, I think it's just fine. I was about to gnaw off my own arm, just leaving my hand to pay the bill, but then it finally ended and I went to Jack. Where I did get hit on, by a complete and total and utter drunken golf playing country club asshole who was so rude even I could hardly believe it. Should have stuck with the emperor's cute minion. Okay he was apparently mute, but adorable nonetheless, and these things can be overcome. Or not.
Tonight I went to a party at the house of my longtime crush E, the fiddle playing lawyer. E is too young for me and an Aries to boot (I don't date Aries, they all hate me) but I have heard good things about his parties. This was a very nice party and there were hardly any women there - and the only ones present were all firmly attached to some guy or another. But the guys were there to play music, and damn them, that is all they did. There was a jam session in the kitchen and one on the porch, although it was cold as hell, and everyone was intent. Some great music and I wish I'd had my camera, but they kept on doing bong hits and I got dizzy and had to go home. I have no tolerance for pot anymore - actually I never have had, but it's to the point now where I get secondhand stoned, and then my contact lenses wig out and I can't drive, so I try not to be in the room with the stoners. Hopeless ambition, tonight. I built a fire in the fireplace and had several pleasant if somewhat disjointed conversations, saw my old friend D who I rarely see, which was nice, and my friend J the musician, which I wasn't expecting, and heard this guy named Caleb play the fiddle, which was totally brilliant, and a fat fuzzy puppy, who was completely cute beyond words. So all good, but of course, the Repell-O Rays were working overtime, and even being the only single woman in a room of maybe 35 men did me no good at all. So, I returned to the Kingdom of One.