Tyson's/WSC/Dinner party

Well FruitFly and I had a fun little trip out to Tyson's. She has a Manhattan wedding next weekend and needed a necklace to go with her new deep chocolate dress and tortoise-shell heels. We had discussed options last weekend during fashion strategy session. After mulling over that, I firmly had either a brown topaz or citrine pendant in my head. I also had amethyst on the list because I like how lighter purple tones match with rich browns - it is not for everyone but I think the pairing has alot of good tension.

After some mall crawling and deliberations, she bought a very spartan, elliptical, white gold pendant (maybe an inch across) with diamonds along the outline and a very simple chain - I would classify it as Miro-esque. FruitFly's taste runs along the silver/plantimun axis; thus this new addition will be a nice match with her exisitng collection. The piece is also very unique and sits beautifully on her chest - it definitely has an understated elegance that will look nice at an evening wedding.
Added bonus: It was half off!

I also found out that both wrap dresses and polka dots have made it to the burbs. (And most women in the burbs cannot successfully wear either). FruitFly bought a really cute empire waisted whimisical black and white polka-dot top. FAB. And she threw in some patent leather pumps to go with her jeans....Porn-tastic.

We were off to run a few errands and have ladies lunch at the Daily Grill (good GOD there are some queeny queens at the mall).

Bubba wasn't feeling well yesterday. He was up and down all Friday night. Probably due to Friday's LONG happy hour at Rock Bottom in Bethesda with the science geeks (my office crowd). Then Lebanese dinner afterwards.

So he was waiting for us on the couch, remote in one hand, and scratching Linus with the other. Apparently, the phone had rung all day and Bubba hates it when the house turns into Grand Central and I am not there to manage it. He didn't seem too mad.

However, all of the zipping about during the morning and early afternoon had left me in a little time crunch.

Quick trip to the bathroom to powder my nose and off to the gym to meet Weatherwoof and the Young Lovers (Y.L.s) for afternoon caveman time (4pm - WSC - north side of the circle). (Jimbo was out of town on a ski adventure with Skip). BTW - Weatherwoof has some kicking guns. We did a little lifting and Y.L.s popped in and we did some talking/lifting.

Weatherwoof had to jet to dinner with his peeps at 6. We dropped by P&J's (other half of Y.L.s) place in the gay ghetto and popped into Whole Foods for supplies. Boys and boy butt were everywhere - I love that straight guys are wearing clingy workout wear now. Delicate Flower got on the horn with Chaka, who was doing housework at home (housecoat, fuzzy slippers, showtunes, and a pitcher of Mai Tai's while vacuuming?), to make sure Chaka had not yet eaten. The YLs hopped the metro with me and Chaka strolled over for dinner with the old married couple.

Lots of wine and champers over apps, and I whipped up a quick utilitarian meal. Chaka brought a wonderful Argentinain Malbec that I had not had before (I have loved Malbec for many years now).

It was nice to have people over and use the placemats and cloth napkins and have the house filled with laughter and chat. Unlike the other places where I have lived, my D.C. days have not really involved entertaining at home (outside of FruitFly and her man upstairs). Since I have been poor forever, entertaining at home has been a fixture in my life and I really have enjoyed it (and missed that part of my life here). Sitting and talking over dinner allows the conversation to flow and develop - bar talk, even with wonderful people, can be one-dimensional ("I'd hit that" or "Honey, another round?").

Last night I learned some nuggets as the conversation twisted and turned:

1. DF filled me in on his days as a hair-burner. I always thought he was joking - but he was an honest-to-god stylist out in Denver after high school.

2. P&J informed me that the young gays now consider a 34-inch waist fat. By extension, if I am chunky - the gay world has really changed.

3. Y.L.s confirmed that, in gay culture, 40 in ancient and 30 is old. Bubba asked rhetorically if he should be wearing Depends and be wheeled about the neighborhood by his nurse.
(Side note: Isn't it odd that in straight culture 40 is the new 30 and 50 is the new 40 - but in gay culture, 30 is the new 40 and over 40 is virtually unfathomable. I'm not sure the gay pioneers of the 1970s would appreciate this.)

4. Chaka's rugby jersey was really nice and made his tits really stand up. But they are not tits, nor are they his rack, I was told that men have pecs. Got it.

5. Chaka, after the champers and red wine, hit cruising altitude and did a Torch Song Trilogy rendition for us. He was channeling Harvey Fierstein. A little Sally Bowles, a touch of Sandy, and musical stop in the Austrian Alps, I then disregarded point number four.

So fun was had by all. I felt like mom cooking for my little gay gaggle. Bubba, gay dad, was perched in the corner tossing out bon mots like candy and seemed to enjoy having company over.

But alas, all good times must come to an end. Those young ones, full of amorous desire, needed to go out to cha-cha and cruise men - so they were back down to Dupont to do the Gay Mile.

This homo was tired so I stayed in with Bubba and we watched a really great episode of Bill Maher that had Barney Frank and Joe Scarborough whilst sipping on a few G&Ts to settle my nerves (I had been going since 9:30am!).