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I went to Carpet SampLEZ at 6:30 yesterday at Purr, expecting a couple of hours of perhaps underwhelming quiet socialization with queer women, followed by the Iron Monkeys' fundraiser in Georgetown. The universe had other plans for me.
First of all, the people who organize Carpet SampLEZ - "run" is too strong a word - invited a group of (bi?) women from another online group to join us. We ended up dominating Purr's happy hour, thereby making the days of the pretty boys behind the bar. We had up to thirty women there at one point, including![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
xaotica and one of my fellow Lambert House volunqueers. Yes, lots of them were cute, and I'm pretty sure every last one of them is at least five years younger than I am.
One of the bi women claimed to have gotten snark for being bi from one of the (mainly lesbian) Carpet Samplers. Really? Really? Not OK.
Eventually 11:00 rolled around, we started to lose population, the dudes encroached, and one of us wanted a tattoo (the skinny girl who was showing off her many tattoos earlier). So a bunch of us, led by the organizer of the second group, headed over to the tattoo parlor next to the Wildrose, just around the corner. Don't worry; I didn't get any tattoos of my own. I got to be their Tonto because I knew the Hill better than they did.
After the short art appreciation break, we headed over to Neighbours - yeah, spelled limey style. More drinking ensued, this time with dancing.
A first: I slapped the hand of a man who just wouldn't keep it off me on the dance floor. I was one of six or eight women who were all over each other. I know a lot straight dudes dig watching that kind of thing, but if you're a dude, your chances with women like this are worse than average. I guess the straight dude in question wasn't thinking, or was thinking with an organ other than the correct one. I'm learning to dislike the half of humanity whose DNA is in me.
Two of the women with me bought me drinks. I can remember their names, thank goodness, but I can't find any of them in Zuckerberg's data mine. Do I like them? Shyeah. Are they cute? Cute to cute enough, yeah. Are they dating material? In one or two cases, maybe. The organizer of Carpet SampLEZ is working on obtaining contact info for the second group, she says. It's a miracle that I'm not suffering anything worse than sleep deprivation: I finally turned out the light after 3:00.
I completely missed the Iron Monkeys' fundraiser, which was supposed to end at 10:30, bizarrely enough. That's too bad because they said they were selling playa staples and I could use a few. And it's always a pleasure to seebutterflake, who is in fact an Iron Monkey and has largely unplugged from the Internet.
First of all, the people who organize Carpet SampLEZ - "run" is too strong a word - invited a group of (bi?) women from another online group to join us. We ended up dominating Purr's happy hour, thereby making the days of the pretty boys behind the bar. We had up to thirty women there at one point, including
xaotica and one of my fellow Lambert House volunqueers. Yes, lots of them were cute, and I'm pretty sure every last one of them is at least five years younger than I am.One of the bi women claimed to have gotten snark for being bi from one of the (mainly lesbian) Carpet Samplers. Really? Really? Not OK.
Eventually 11:00 rolled around, we started to lose population, the dudes encroached, and one of us wanted a tattoo (the skinny girl who was showing off her many tattoos earlier). So a bunch of us, led by the organizer of the second group, headed over to the tattoo parlor next to the Wildrose, just around the corner. Don't worry; I didn't get any tattoos of my own. I got to be their Tonto because I knew the Hill better than they did.
After the short art appreciation break, we headed over to Neighbours - yeah, spelled limey style. More drinking ensued, this time with dancing.
A first: I slapped the hand of a man who just wouldn't keep it off me on the dance floor. I was one of six or eight women who were all over each other. I know a lot straight dudes dig watching that kind of thing, but if you're a dude, your chances with women like this are worse than average. I guess the straight dude in question wasn't thinking, or was thinking with an organ other than the correct one. I'm learning to dislike the half of humanity whose DNA is in me.
Two of the women with me bought me drinks. I can remember their names, thank goodness, but I can't find any of them in Zuckerberg's data mine. Do I like them? Shyeah. Are they cute? Cute to cute enough, yeah. Are they dating material? In one or two cases, maybe. The organizer of Carpet SampLEZ is working on obtaining contact info for the second group, she says. It's a miracle that I'm not suffering anything worse than sleep deprivation: I finally turned out the light after 3:00.
I completely missed the Iron Monkeys' fundraiser, which was supposed to end at 10:30, bizarrely enough. That's too bad because they said they were selling playa staples and I could use a few. And it's always a pleasure to see
butterflake, who is in fact an Iron Monkey and has largely unplugged from the Internet.
