Reaching Nirvana

Originally, this post was going to be called "catharsis", but my night got rapidly better, so here we are.

To whine briefly, I had a tough week. I worked ten days in a row, and for bizarre reasons, I had to work the night between days nine and ten. Needless to say, I was ready to go out Sunday, and my colleague covered my pager, so I got to have fun. I had a bunch of drinks Sunday, hooked up Sunday night, went to wine country on Monday, and made cookies on Tuesday. In short, I did just about everything that makes me feel better (except for seeing family). For those who don't believe I can cook, here are the cookies (and there are more to come) on the dining room table.

If, perhaps, you think that I would buy cookies and splay them out to impress, here are the kitchen and living room I still have to clean. My old roommate always said it looked like the apartment "exploded cookies". I miss the fact that he would clean after I cooked.

After making cookies all day, I took a batch to The Mix for my favorite bartenders, and well as a personal selection for the hottie mentioned in the last blog. There seemed to be some good conversation, but someone interrupted with stories of their new digs. Alas. But another cutie reminded me that it was Trannyshack night, and was willing to let me tag along again.

It was an even better show than usual, with a lot of soul music and a Julie Andrews set that I adored. It was arranged by Juanita More, of whom I'd heard much. After the show, she was giving away tickets to her New Year's Party to boys who would show their ass on stage. I shook a little booty since I was near the stage, but I wasn't going to drop trow, which was required for the tickets.

As the night was winding down, I was introduced to Ms. More. She said she was hoping I would get on stage for tickets. Yes, Juanita More wanted to see MY ass. That's when the title changed from Catharsis to Nirvana. If only my friend who first told me about Ms. More had been there. Again, alas. (But you can still have some cookies.)

To top it off, I finally talked to the gentleman with whom I came (nay, arrived), and there might be something there. He talked about going out sometime this week. If that doesn't work, someone to whom I gave my number has already called.

I win. For now. Between you, me, and the internet, though, I'd still rather take the boy for whom I made extra cookies out to dinner. I'd be upset that he left the bar with a guy, but as Christina Aguilera would say, you "can't bring me down today".