  A dim but perceptible weirdness permeated the evening last night. Granger treated me to an up do and hair pulling; and i really started to understand what it is about spas, hairdressers, etc. that make women want to settle down and live in one. That is, if those places were like the place Granger and i went yesterday. The staff were our friends; not friendly, mind you; but friends. They gently teased, they chatted me up, they gave me honest, unedited opinions, and the atmosphere was entirely unlike any other environment i've been in.
It was altogether appealing, and i'm going to go again, should my funds allow it. These people take care of you, want to help you look pretty, and i think can really help out with a lady's self esteem. The staff were happy to be working there, and it showed. Dinner was chicken parmesan al forno, courtesy of Granger, and it was indeed Martha Stewartesque, without the criminal elements. Damn, it was good. We moved on to the formal reception downstairs, and got into our limos, ten to a car.
It was my first time in a limo, and even with ten people in it, it was the most comfortable 45 min or so ride i've ever had. That's saying a lot when one is wearing a dress and shoes that would serve admirably as torture devices. It was in the reception area of Granger's res that things began to feel surreal. Kurt and I didn't know anyone, and it appeared that no one knew anyone else, either. The people sat in little knots, and there was virtually no interaction. The only person that made a gesture of communicativeness to me was a girl that had recent sent an e-mail to Granger telling her off the other week.
Marvelous. I pretended not to know of the situation, and talked of how Granger lent me the dress, paid for my grooming, and fed me. I also pretended not to notice the sideways stare the girl was giving Granger the entire time we were sitting together. I complimented the girl on her dress, asked about her pets, and tried to think what a person ought to do in a situation like that one. I sort of felt like asking the girl probing questions on her bitter bitchiness towards Granger, but then lamed out and just sort of watched the two girls try not to notice one another. Surrealness followed in the comfort of the limo, and beyond, to the Casino.
I have the feeling that if hell were a physical place, it might be there. It was bright, noisy, and chaotic, and i got the sense that few people wanted to be there, but boredom or desperation led them there. (That's a big assumption though, perhaps i was just overwhelmed by the sense that i didn't want to be there. ) Minako came, and offered us a drive to the next spot on the formal's to do list. I enjoyed the club's decor, and the layout, but the bouncers were pure assholery, and well, i was barraged with the fact the eighties have resurfaced fashion wise. Hideous.
Girls flounced by wearing clothes that suggested they were on sale, and men stalked by, looking for them. Since none of us could really talk over the music, i went into full observation mode, and started speculating on things. One thing i thought about is why i have less trouble in a bar anxiety-wise than i do in a mall. I came to the conclusion that, well, a person is terrifically anonymous in a bar, much more so than other places. The lighting, the music and the alcohol cause this blurring that's almost dreamlike to me. It's like I'm watching a movie that's surrounding me.
This disassociation provides a measure of safety in my brain. There was other stuff floating around in my head as well, like how formal wear seems to be designed to highlight a person's frailty, particularly women, but that's a longish bit, so we'll leave it. We went for food, and Granger's Boyfriend bought kurt and myself some fries. Good fries. If i were to rate the evening on food; one a scale of one to ten, it was definitely a solid ten. Encountered minako again, and also a girl i've not seen since i was about 17.
After doing a brief and scattered catching up deal, the gang went for a tour of the town. We climbed back into the limos at two thirty, and were whisked back to 'vegas. Did I have a good time? Yes. Would I do it again? I don't think so.
I was too tired to dance, and that's my entire reason to go out to a club like dealio. It was too loud to talk, and that'd be my reason to hang out at a pub or coffee shop. Casinos are evil to me. All in all it was the odd bits that made the evening; making faces at The Boyfriend when Granger wasn't looking, the limo ride, the pampering, the dinner, Minako's autobiographical tour of the town. Seeing the town, and everything else for that matter, through tinted windows. Running into the girl from home.
Watching the weird human aquarium of the club. And, definitely watching Granger and The Boyfriend curl up into a cuddly mass, and fall semi-asleep. Other bits: If i continue to work dilligently, we might be straightend out financially by May. Perhaps even sooner if we get the compy up and running properly. That's a pretty big if at the moment. The tower needs fixing, and a new monitor needs to be gotten.
The current monitor does work, but it's fuzzy, and in order to do the job, one needs a screen that has perfect resolution. Argh. If it's not one thing, it's usually another, right? We had an intense D&D session the other night; a member of our party bought it, another went insane, and my own character might not be far behind. It was exhuasting. It re-enforced the notion that the story that the group is spinning ought to be written down.
We'll see i guess. I have no idea how to write fight sequences. That's it. Remember - out of all the people that come and visit this page, you're my favorite. 
