It all started with a change in the guest list: the coven accepted my invitation early on, and La Fashionista told me she'd bring a date, and La F's ex R had other plans. Since six is a crowd here in the Devil Girl pad, I regretfully told a couple of usual guests that I didn't have room, but I invited
bork, who's another usual suspect.
But then I found out that R's plans fell through. What I said to La Fashionista was, "Arg! [...] Six is a tight fit. If he's coming alone, it's cool." Everyone involved knows what this place is like with six people inside: a sardine scene. Even five is pretty snug. I assumed that R was showing up regardless. He did not. I was relieved, to tell you the truth.
Oh: my bathroom light switch stopped turning on just hours before the start of dinner. But I'm a Burner chick, and therefore I have LED camping lanterns. Time for the maintenance request mambo.
So! I made stuffing and got the bird in the oven. And then people started showing up. La Fashionista's date J looked fabulous in what I must say is the most revealing outfit I've ever seen at a Thanksgiving dinner. Legs for days, as they'd say in London. Not that I mind, and I find J perfectly charming and nun-approved. La F, J, and of course yours truly gothed it up. Tacoma Girl was true to her punk rock self in a wacky sweater.
bork was, well,
bork, complete with a tale of witnessing an assault in the ID on the way here. I never thought I'd hear him speak well of the police.
Eats got eated! I really should have asked somebody to bring a veggie, but aside from that, everything was right on. Tacoma Girl's sweet potatoes and intensely garlicky mash were, in my opinion, the stars of the meal. I did not mess up the turkey, but it took me a while to get that confirmed.
( Gross body stuff. )
All in all, though, I declare that Goth Friendsgiving, a torch passed from
cupcake_goth to
jengalicious to me, is relit, small as it may be now.
Oh, tonight's plan? The Monkey Loft. Funny Lady bailed on me because she has a cold. K has other plans. The Tickler has anxiety. How to find a good home for that second ticket? Time to start pinging raver chums for the next couple of hours.
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But then I found out that R's plans fell through. What I said to La Fashionista was, "Arg! [...] Six is a tight fit. If he's coming alone, it's cool." Everyone involved knows what this place is like with six people inside: a sardine scene. Even five is pretty snug. I assumed that R was showing up regardless. He did not. I was relieved, to tell you the truth.
Oh: my bathroom light switch stopped turning on just hours before the start of dinner. But I'm a Burner chick, and therefore I have LED camping lanterns. Time for the maintenance request mambo.
So! I made stuffing and got the bird in the oven. And then people started showing up. La Fashionista's date J looked fabulous in what I must say is the most revealing outfit I've ever seen at a Thanksgiving dinner. Legs for days, as they'd say in London. Not that I mind, and I find J perfectly charming and nun-approved. La F, J, and of course yours truly gothed it up. Tacoma Girl was true to her punk rock self in a wacky sweater.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Eats got eated! I really should have asked somebody to bring a veggie, but aside from that, everything was right on. Tacoma Girl's sweet potatoes and intensely garlicky mash were, in my opinion, the stars of the meal. I did not mess up the turkey, but it took me a while to get that confirmed.
( Gross body stuff. )
All in all, though, I declare that Goth Friendsgiving, a torch passed from
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Oh, tonight's plan? The Monkey Loft. Funny Lady bailed on me because she has a cold. K has other plans. The Tickler has anxiety. How to find a good home for that second ticket? Time to start pinging raver chums for the next couple of hours.