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Ultimate as in final, hopefully. The sun is setting, I'm getting a PC tan, and I've got to get outside soon.
After the first part of the interview, we arrived late to the Q&A, having missed about 20 minutes of Rosenbaum-y goodness. Such is life. I'm just glad we gave Muhney a head start, so no one could (rightfully) pin his lateness on us. The remainder of the Q&A was unfathomably entertaining, as might be expected given the guests, and the general atmosphere after that auction. I was laughing so hard at one point, I fell out of my chair. Which I really shouldn't admit to, but it was designed to be a testament to just how amusing our guest speakers were, and not an embarrassing confession. Take it as you will.
Immediately after that came the Sunday reception, which was originally meant to be another cocktail party, before MR's scheduling constraints came into play. Supposedly that made it inappropriate for me to wear my cocktail dress. Whatever. It's a windowless room. It could be evening, you don't know. Besides, I had a borrowed dress I might never get the chance to wear again. I mean, really, how often do I get to put on leopard print? Those of you who think I'm kidding, it's nice to meet you. Stalk at will.
I gave MR a much-needed massage, which I really was not qualified for, so I turned the task over to the professional,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
icalynn. Yes, I am incredibly generous, but I kinda wasn't feeling it anyway. Except in my hands, of course. Great body. No spark. Anyway, I continued to be wildly amused by MR, gave him a hard time about his questionable (unsanitary!) habits, and fed him grapes. Ok, so I threw one toward his open mouth and missed, but it was a nice moment nonetheless. Then I caught up with aelora, who was completing the interview with Muhney. Re-skipping to compensate for previous skipping (skipping, skipping, la la la).
While Aelora went off on her date and Icalynn went to the Roswell screening, I went up to the room and turned up the music. I had just finished singing and dancing and tearing the hell out of my pantyhose when the crew came back, so of course the rest of the night was a Squee-fest over Ae's date. The girls ran into Francis just outside the room while I was having one of my customary wardrobe malfunctions (nylon, like most artificial, appearance-oriented, heartless things, hates me). Turns out Francis was staying a couple doors down. Before I joined them, he had bittenaelora's hand to punish her for choosing MR over him, and proposed a threesome. He apparently tried to include me in his calculations once he saw me, but I think math was beyond him at this point. I know I'm leaving out so many choice moments like this, but ultimately, you just had to be there.
I waited in the lobby with Ica and Ae for the last of their pics to be printed. We were all crashing pretty hard, so I brought out my iPod and speakers to try and keep our energy up. [ETA: The music we were listening to was Weird Al, because that seemed to be the only thing that could keep Aelora's eyes open at one point. So of course, the song playing when Muhney walks up is "Wanna Be Ur Lover". I make no apologies.] The actors stopped to say Goodbye on their way out, which was exceptionally sweet. Just as Ica got her last pic, Muhney came out, so while the other girls went to bed I stayed to beg for an autograph. So not me, but oh well. So worth it. I told him that I'd skipped him originally because I didn't care at the time. He seemed surprised by my honesty, aka bluntness. You can tell the boy doesn't know me. *g* He signed it to "Reese Laura, I Loved You before You Loved Me". A little cocky of him, since I never said I loved him, but *Squee!*. Ok, so I'm in love. He loved me first!
[The End]
[postscript]
Muhney mentioned being a Mensa member. I wonder if I could qualify. Read it again, this time don’t laugh. Thank you. My last IQ test would’ve gotten me in, but of course I was 6 at the time. Eventually I got smart enough to realize that being smart gets you nowhere. Slowly and painfully. AKA, nerds gets their butts kicked, ditzy chicks gets their butts kissed. Pride is for sissies anyway. Of course, now I want the Mensa card to tuck into my bra under my “This is what a Hottie Looks Like” shirt, but I’m afraid that years of practice at being a ditz may have cost me a few IQ points.
...
After the first part of the interview, we arrived late to the Q&A, having missed about 20 minutes of Rosenbaum-y goodness. Such is life. I'm just glad we gave Muhney a head start, so no one could (rightfully) pin his lateness on us. The remainder of the Q&A was unfathomably entertaining, as might be expected given the guests, and the general atmosphere after that auction. I was laughing so hard at one point, I fell out of my chair. Which I really shouldn't admit to, but it was designed to be a testament to just how amusing our guest speakers were, and not an embarrassing confession. Take it as you will.
Immediately after that came the Sunday reception, which was originally meant to be another cocktail party, before MR's scheduling constraints came into play. Supposedly that made it inappropriate for me to wear my cocktail dress. Whatever. It's a windowless room. It could be evening, you don't know. Besides, I had a borrowed dress I might never get the chance to wear again. I mean, really, how often do I get to put on leopard print? Those of you who think I'm kidding, it's nice to meet you. Stalk at will.
I gave MR a much-needed massage, which I really was not qualified for, so I turned the task over to the professional,
icalynn. Yes, I am incredibly generous, but I kinda wasn't feeling it anyway. Except in my hands, of course. Great body. No spark. Anyway, I continued to be wildly amused by MR, gave him a hard time about his questionable (unsanitary!) habits, and fed him grapes. Ok, so I threw one toward his open mouth and missed, but it was a nice moment nonetheless. Then I caught up with aelora, who was completing the interview with Muhney. Re-skipping to compensate for previous skipping (skipping, skipping, la la la).While Aelora went off on her date and Icalynn went to the Roswell screening, I went up to the room and turned up the music. I had just finished singing and dancing and tearing the hell out of my pantyhose when the crew came back, so of course the rest of the night was a Squee-fest over Ae's date. The girls ran into Francis just outside the room while I was having one of my customary wardrobe malfunctions (nylon, like most artificial, appearance-oriented, heartless things, hates me). Turns out Francis was staying a couple doors down. Before I joined them, he had bitten
aelora's hand to punish her for choosing MR over him, and proposed a threesome. He apparently tried to include me in his calculations once he saw me, but I think math was beyond him at this point. I know I'm leaving out so many choice moments like this, but ultimately, you just had to be there.I waited in the lobby with Ica and Ae for the last of their pics to be printed. We were all crashing pretty hard, so I brought out my iPod and speakers to try and keep our energy up. [ETA: The music we were listening to was Weird Al, because that seemed to be the only thing that could keep Aelora's eyes open at one point. So of course, the song playing when Muhney walks up is "Wanna Be Ur Lover". I make no apologies.] The actors stopped to say Goodbye on their way out, which was exceptionally sweet. Just as Ica got her last pic, Muhney came out, so while the other girls went to bed I stayed to beg for an autograph. So not me, but oh well. So worth it. I told him that I'd skipped him originally because I didn't care at the time. He seemed surprised by my honesty, aka bluntness. You can tell the boy doesn't know me. *g* He signed it to "Reese Laura, I Loved You before You Loved Me". A little cocky of him, since I never said I loved him, but *Squee!*. Ok, so I'm in love. He loved me first!
[The End]
[postscript]
Muhney mentioned being a Mensa member. I wonder if I could qualify. Read it again, this time don’t laugh. Thank you. My last IQ test would’ve gotten me in, but of course I was 6 at the time. Eventually I got smart enough to realize that being smart gets you nowhere. Slowly and painfully. AKA, nerds gets their butts kicked, ditzy chicks gets their butts kissed. Pride is for sissies anyway. Of course, now I want the Mensa card to tuck into my bra under my “This is what a Hottie Looks Like” shirt, but I’m afraid that years of practice at being a ditz may have cost me a few IQ points.
...
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*rereads part about giving MR massage and throwing grapes
intonear his mouth*OK. I'm a lot jealous.
From:
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What have we learned?
*Hee*