On My Way To A Fancy Dinner Party In Savannah, Georgia
Okay, so I was invited to a fancy dinner party, last night. I know, Right? Me.
Oh, and Tony was invited, too. I tend to be a little on the funny side and well, at least I think I am funny. But, I'll have to be on my best behavior because I want the hosts to fall madly in love with me and invite me back to all of their dinner parties, mainly because I am desperate and have no friends since I've already pissed off all the other friends that I used to have. From being "funny".
Oh well... get this: one of the guests has been a bit stressed and over-worked but I don't really pay attention to this, because let's face it, it's all about me.
She's a very bold & boisterous person so I figure she can handle it. She's no wimp, even though she's 63 and you know how emotional 63 year old women can get. You never know when you're going to piss them off, just by being "funny".
She said she is going to pick us up and drive us to dinner, since we don't have a car here, in Savannah... and riding the "third world bus", according to her, is a bit risky at night. Especially since I am wearing flip flops with white socks, dark brown, unisex, flowered shorts from Fresh Produce (the fit me perfectly and look and I look so hot in them), a crisp white t-shirt with a tight collar and a pretty, cream -colored pull-over sweater. It looks either very "Californian" or very old man-ish (I'm about to turn 51 and you know how men start to dress a little wilder as they age, especially with our pants). Or, I just look odd and look like a plain-old ridiculous gay man in flowered shorts.
Which is probably what my friend was thinking of: I can't let these gay boys ride the third world bus in Savannah in the dark. They'll probably get stabbed, raped, punched, pulled, pushed, shot or beat up.
So get this... she's picking us up at 6:15 and she is always on time, on the dot... but this time, she's a smidge late and I'm thinking this is great because I can post another message or two or three or four or twenty on Facebook before she arrives. And, my pull-over is in the dryer with Bounce so that not only will all of the fold-wrinkles come out, I'll smell pretty, too.
At 6:30 we're supposed to be at the dinner party, and just at 6:30 on the dot, the phone rings and it's my friend. She's hysterical and having a fit because she can't, "find her god-damned keys to her *effing car"...
So I say, calmly...
It's okay darling, it's 6:30 at night. Where do you have to go that you're so upset about your keys?
And, she screams: WHAT? I CAN'T FIND MY GOD-DAMNED *EFFING CAR KEYS!
And I say, calm down Gail. I will come over tomorrow and help you find them. To which she actually screeches into the phone, in a volume so loud that I am certain the dogs & cats in her neighborhood are scurrying away from her utterly screechy, squeally, squaking kind of screaming that she's doing:
WHAT IN THE GOD DAMNED *EFFING *EF ARE YOU *EFFING TALKING ABOUT? I JUST TOLD YOU I CAN'T FIND MY *EFFING CAR KEYS.... DAMN IT!
And I say, calmly: It's going to be alright darling, what are you so upset about? Because, I am imagining at any second she's going to calmly say, "Oh, I just found them". while I'm thinking, this is great... another 15 to 20 minutes on Facebook before she picks me up...
And she screams: DON'T YOU *EFFING REMEMBER WE ARE *EFFING GOING OVER TO *EFFING
R & G'S HOUSE
FOR *EFFING DINNER TONIGHT?
And I reply, calmly, Oh? Was that tonight? I thought that was next week?
Well, at this point, she is absolutely hysterical so I say, calm down, Gail. I know it's tonight...Tony and I will ride the bus and...
And she screams again in a pitch that nearly burst my ear-drum. And, she says: God damn you *effing with me Steven, so help me God, I am in no *effing mood for your shit tonight and BAM! She slams her iPhone down so hard that I actually think I hear it crack in half...
and I start to chuckle and I turn to Tony and say: Gail lost her *effing car keys and she is hysterical and oh boy, if she jumps on me about ANY *EFFING THING at the dinner table tonight: POW! I'm going to let her have it, right to the kisser! And, if she brings up the fact that I am giving out diseases at my Valentine's party next weekend and how she's utterly disgusted by it....
(see my earlier story about giving my guests medical conditions and diseases at my party, since our doctor will actually be at the party and I am certain it will be a fun game)
...I will simply either dump her dinner plate in her lap or slap her across the face, back-hand style, if she makes one *effing comment about my upcoming Valentine's party! I even have a request from two people who want three diseases! So there!
At that minute, my phone rings back and it's one of the hosts telling me his partner is on his way to pick up Gail, and then will swing by to pick us up, and don't we dare tell him we're just going to ride the "third world bus", because they'll be at my house in 5 minutes and then he says: Ooops, Gail's on the other line again, oh, and I've got a surprise for you when you get here: CLICK!
He hangs up on me. Tony says: Who was that? I said: oh, it was G. telling me that R is on his way over here to pick us up after he picks Gail up.
And with that, I start to panic: FIVE MINUTES? How in the *effing hell am I going to read a few more Facebook posts and post a few more funny photos & remarks, if they're going to be here in 5 *effing minutes?
And, I actually start to panic and get that sick feeling in my stomach when you're busy doing one thing and you know Tony is going to be screaming at me: STEVEN! HURRY UP G'D IT...THEY'RE HERE! LET'S GO!
...all-the-while I am wondering what the surprise is? Marijuana? Movie Stars or celebrities? Prescription party-mix? What? So my curiosity starts to get piqued a bit...
And then the car pulls up out front and Gail is sitting in the front seat, perfectly calm, in a full-length fur coat from the 50's that the host swears is muskrat, but Gail swears is mink... and she's utterly coiffed perfectly calm, glamorous and exuding elegance and radiating that fakey upper-crust voice of a madame and she says, "Hello darlings, I'm calm now, jump-in and let's scooch-a-roo my sweets" and we jump in the back seat and go to the dinner party where I was perfectly well-behaved. In fact, I was so well-behaved the host says, "Steven, I've had this different impression of you from past meetings..."
And I say, Oh?
And he says, yes, I thought you were much-more, um...what's the word? Flighty? Faggy? Funny? Free-spirited? he points to his partner in the Kentucky Derby hat and says, you know, more like her...and I'm thinking: I wonder what the *eff that means? So I ask him to elaborate... and he tries to nail it, but the party is heating up, the margaritas and wine (two-fisted drinkers) are "kicking-in" and starting to buzz us up a bit and the conversation runs off in a completely different direction...
And of course, I start being a bit not-so on my best behavior and the party rolls around and around, we move from room to room. We laughed, we ate, we drank, we played the piano and talked using words that were a bit dishy & dirty, and we definitely ooh'd and ahh'd over the host's home. It was beautifully decorated and just a lovely place to enjoy the evening. It had a swimming pool situated just off of the two rooms we sat in, so you could see it's glistening lights radiating off of the Mexican fan palms in a shimmering, glittery way.
Everybody is having a good time.
Which brings me to considering my next post: The Dinner Party...
Only, I am kinda afraid to write about that and post it here on Facebook, because the hosts read my page, and they're still in love with me and you know how sensitive queens can be if you post shizz about them on Facebook and they obviously have to read it, second hand. But, let me just say that when the host answered the door I was thrilled because it was approximately 38 degrees outside, raining and I was dressed in shorts, a sweater, a scarf, white socks & flip flops. I was nearly frozen to death and could not wait to get inside and start the par-tay...
I had on my fabulous Maui Jim sunglasses and as he opened the door, I screamed in an overly-fake, high-pitched, dramatic-voice, "Darling, I'm finally here! ...and I'm ready for my close-up... where's the camera? I feel like Betty Davis in DARK VICTORY and it's growing darker by the minute...
And the host? He answered the door in a lovely cashmere sweater, a set of fake pearls that were FOUR inches in diameter... giant pearls, and a Kentucky Derby straw hat laden with brightly colored straw flowers the size of giant bon bons, and he screams back at me: Darling! Is this too much to wear to the Kentucky Derby...where are the horses? I need a mint julep! Has the race begun? Are the jockey's cute? What?
And, we stumble into each other, laughing so hard we can barely control ourselves. As it turned out, it was a fabulous dinner party and we left somewhere around one-ish, in the morning.
I just got out of bed, today.
It's noon.
I think I'll post a few things on Facebook...
-Written by Steven Hough
Okay, so I was invited to a fancy dinner party, last night. I know, Right? Me.
Oh, and Tony was invited, too. I tend to be a little on the funny side and well, at least I think I am funny. But, I'll have to be on my best behavior because I want the hosts to fall madly in love with me and invite me back to all of their dinner parties, mainly because I am desperate and have no friends since I've already pissed off all the other friends that I used to have. From being "funny".
Oh well... get this: one of the guests has been a bit stressed and over-worked but I don't really pay attention to this, because let's face it, it's all about me.
She's a very bold & boisterous person so I figure she can handle it. She's no wimp, even though she's 63 and you know how emotional 63 year old women can get. You never know when you're going to piss them off, just by being "funny".
She said she is going to pick us up and drive us to dinner, since we don't have a car here, in Savannah... and riding the "third world bus", according to her, is a bit risky at night. Especially since I am wearing flip flops with white socks, dark brown, unisex, flowered shorts from Fresh Produce (the fit me perfectly and look and I look so hot in them), a crisp white t-shirt with a tight collar and a pretty, cream -colored pull-over sweater. It looks either very "Californian" or very old man-ish (I'm about to turn 51 and you know how men start to dress a little wilder as they age, especially with our pants). Or, I just look odd and look like a plain-old ridiculous gay man in flowered shorts.
Which is probably what my friend was thinking of: I can't let these gay boys ride the third world bus in Savannah in the dark. They'll probably get stabbed, raped, punched, pulled, pushed, shot or beat up.
So get this... she's picking us up at 6:15 and she is always on time, on the dot... but this time, she's a smidge late and I'm thinking this is great because I can post another message or two or three or four or twenty on Facebook before she arrives. And, my pull-over is in the dryer with Bounce so that not only will all of the fold-wrinkles come out, I'll smell pretty, too.
At 6:30 we're supposed to be at the dinner party, and just at 6:30 on the dot, the phone rings and it's my friend. She's hysterical and having a fit because she can't, "find her god-damned keys to her *effing car"...
So I say, calmly...
It's okay darling, it's 6:30 at night. Where do you have to go that you're so upset about your keys?
And, she screams: WHAT? I CAN'T FIND MY GOD-DAMNED *EFFING CAR KEYS!
And I say, calm down Gail. I will come over tomorrow and help you find them. To which she actually screeches into the phone, in a volume so loud that I am certain the dogs & cats in her neighborhood are scurrying away from her utterly screechy, squeally, squaking kind of screaming that she's doing:
WHAT IN THE GOD DAMNED *EFFING *EF ARE YOU *EFFING TALKING ABOUT? I JUST TOLD YOU I CAN'T FIND MY *EFFING CAR KEYS.... DAMN IT!
And I say, calmly: It's going to be alright darling, what are you so upset about? Because, I am imagining at any second she's going to calmly say, "Oh, I just found them". while I'm thinking, this is great... another 15 to 20 minutes on Facebook before she picks me up...
And she screams: DON'T YOU *EFFING REMEMBER WE ARE *EFFING GOING OVER TO *EFFING
R & G'S HOUSE
FOR *EFFING DINNER TONIGHT?
And I reply, calmly, Oh? Was that tonight? I thought that was next week?
Well, at this point, she is absolutely hysterical so I say, calm down, Gail. I know it's tonight...Tony and I will ride the bus and...
And she screams again in a pitch that nearly burst my ear-drum. And, she says: God damn you *effing with me Steven, so help me God, I am in no *effing mood for your shit tonight and BAM! She slams her iPhone down so hard that I actually think I hear it crack in half...
and I start to chuckle and I turn to Tony and say: Gail lost her *effing car keys and she is hysterical and oh boy, if she jumps on me about ANY *EFFING THING at the dinner table tonight: POW! I'm going to let her have it, right to the kisser! And, if she brings up the fact that I am giving out diseases at my Valentine's party next weekend and how she's utterly disgusted by it....
(see my earlier story about giving my guests medical conditions and diseases at my party, since our doctor will actually be at the party and I am certain it will be a fun game)
...I will simply either dump her dinner plate in her lap or slap her across the face, back-hand style, if she makes one *effing comment about my upcoming Valentine's party! I even have a request from two people who want three diseases! So there!
At that minute, my phone rings back and it's one of the hosts telling me his partner is on his way to pick up Gail, and then will swing by to pick us up, and don't we dare tell him we're just going to ride the "third world bus", because they'll be at my house in 5 minutes and then he says: Ooops, Gail's on the other line again, oh, and I've got a surprise for you when you get here: CLICK!
He hangs up on me. Tony says: Who was that? I said: oh, it was G. telling me that R is on his way over here to pick us up after he picks Gail up.
And with that, I start to panic: FIVE MINUTES? How in the *effing hell am I going to read a few more Facebook posts and post a few more funny photos & remarks, if they're going to be here in 5 *effing minutes?
And, I actually start to panic and get that sick feeling in my stomach when you're busy doing one thing and you know Tony is going to be screaming at me: STEVEN! HURRY UP G'D IT...THEY'RE HERE! LET'S GO!
...all-the-while I am wondering what the surprise is? Marijuana? Movie Stars or celebrities? Prescription party-mix? What? So my curiosity starts to get piqued a bit...
And then the car pulls up out front and Gail is sitting in the front seat, perfectly calm, in a full-length fur coat from the 50's that the host swears is muskrat, but Gail swears is mink... and she's utterly coiffed perfectly calm, glamorous and exuding elegance and radiating that fakey upper-crust voice of a madame and she says, "Hello darlings, I'm calm now, jump-in and let's scooch-a-roo my sweets" and we jump in the back seat and go to the dinner party where I was perfectly well-behaved. In fact, I was so well-behaved the host says, "Steven, I've had this different impression of you from past meetings..."
And I say, Oh?
And he says, yes, I thought you were much-more, um...what's the word? Flighty? Faggy? Funny? Free-spirited? he points to his partner in the Kentucky Derby hat and says, you know, more like her...and I'm thinking: I wonder what the *eff that means? So I ask him to elaborate... and he tries to nail it, but the party is heating up, the margaritas and wine (two-fisted drinkers) are "kicking-in" and starting to buzz us up a bit and the conversation runs off in a completely different direction...
And of course, I start being a bit not-so on my best behavior and the party rolls around and around, we move from room to room. We laughed, we ate, we drank, we played the piano and talked using words that were a bit dishy & dirty, and we definitely ooh'd and ahh'd over the host's home. It was beautifully decorated and just a lovely place to enjoy the evening. It had a swimming pool situated just off of the two rooms we sat in, so you could see it's glistening lights radiating off of the Mexican fan palms in a shimmering, glittery way.
Everybody is having a good time.
Which brings me to considering my next post: The Dinner Party...
Only, I am kinda afraid to write about that and post it here on Facebook, because the hosts read my page, and they're still in love with me and you know how sensitive queens can be if you post shizz about them on Facebook and they obviously have to read it, second hand. But, let me just say that when the host answered the door I was thrilled because it was approximately 38 degrees outside, raining and I was dressed in shorts, a sweater, a scarf, white socks & flip flops. I was nearly frozen to death and could not wait to get inside and start the par-tay...
I had on my fabulous Maui Jim sunglasses and as he opened the door, I screamed in an overly-fake, high-pitched, dramatic-voice, "Darling, I'm finally here! ...and I'm ready for my close-up... where's the camera? I feel like Betty Davis in DARK VICTORY and it's growing darker by the minute...
And the host? He answered the door in a lovely cashmere sweater, a set of fake pearls that were FOUR inches in diameter... giant pearls, and a Kentucky Derby straw hat laden with brightly colored straw flowers the size of giant bon bons, and he screams back at me: Darling! Is this too much to wear to the Kentucky Derby...where are the horses? I need a mint julep! Has the race begun? Are the jockey's cute? What?
And, we stumble into each other, laughing so hard we can barely control ourselves. As it turned out, it was a fabulous dinner party and we left somewhere around one-ish, in the morning.
I just got out of bed, today.
It's noon.
I think I'll post a few things on Facebook...
-Written by Steven Hough
