February 9th

Well, so much for my self congratulatory notes about staying on mark for those damn resolutions. Thursday it looked pretty good, felt like I was more than treading water; just short of walking on water. Improving health, finances, impulse control, emotional stability, better diet, less caffeine ... hell, Thursday I was ready to go one on one with Kryptonite. Felt like I was channelling Gene Wilder & Richard Pryor in Stir Crazy - ["That's right, we bad we bad..."].

Then Friday I went to CostCo.

Pride indeed do goeth before yas falls.

I'd told the purchaser at work that I thought I could get gloves for my doc a bit cheaper than she had been getting them, plus I needed a box in my own size for work and can always use another box around the house. That was my sole mission. A 2-box CostCo package of gloves.

Hear is what the receipt from Cashier Maria on 2/8/2002 at 1709pm listed:

Bath Towel 5.99
Case Code Red Cans 5.99
Exam Gloves Med 2 pack 8.69
Exam Gloves Large 2 pack 8.69
King Crab 1.5lb 19.06
5 Disc DVD set 44.99
3pack Reading Glasses 18.99
Book 4.49
Book 4.49
8.8% Tax 9.00
Total 130.38

Amount over the price of the gloves... $113.00 But but but but but.....

But, you see, Panther has got everybody started on Code Red, which is a bit more socially acceptable than Jolt Cola.

That King Crab was a one time splurge, and cheap at $11 a pound. Took me all night to eat it, and the worst extravagance wasn't the expense, it was the melted butter for dipping. O.M.G.

The DVD set was actually to help fulfill one of my goals, which is to spend more time with Kevin. He has no DVD player so we get together to watch them at my place. And since he eats and breaths the History Channel, what better collection than an all WWII set - Patton, Longest Day, Tora! Tora! Tora!, Thin Red Line. Don't blame him though, my choice to grow the library.

The reading glasses are a necessity, of course, cuz the old ones were starting to get chipped. Certainly couldn't be called an extravagance. Nope nope nope - not an excess, just necessary. I gotta see, right?

And like I'm going to give up a life long habit of book buying just for New Years? Back in 1970 in the Adams Morgan district of Washington DC, if I had a buck for lunch I knew a drug counter where I could buy a novel for 50 cents and get a plate of beans for 50 cents. I feel just as strongly today.

Thanks, guys, for letting me work it out. Until I started writing this - as you can see above, even as I was starting to write it - I was feeling bad about my 'excesses'. Now that I write it out, however, I can see the simple common sense explanation for everything I bought. They aren't excesses! Whew. I feel sooooooooooo much better now. Now I don't feel even remotely pressed to justify the stop on the way home from CostCo at Grocer's Outlet for a cart full of cheap canned goods.

Wandered into the Wet Spot Saturday evening, no dance card, no agenda, so no toys in the trunk. Let's face it folks, if I were to pack up all my toys, I'd fill more than a couple of Oldsmobile POS's. Walking in I saw at least four different people I'd not seen in months, in a couple of cases a year to over three years. The friend I'd not seen since Beyond The Edge Cafe was still open, was a statuesque girl I'll call Saranyu for the journal here. [For those who think this nym shit is easy, I spent over 15-20 minutes in thesauri, dictionaries, and Google search after Google search. Here's the page I finally stopped on.] We chatted, caught up a bit. She'd had a vanilla boyfriend for a while and had dropped out of sight. Coming back, she had an appetite, and so I ended up scrambling to find a few floggers to borrow. That's what you do when someone says to you things like, "I was hoping I could get hit tonight". I was honored to give her the first play she'd had in three years. Next time I gotta have my own floggers - nice equipment and I appreciate the loan, but damn! Two of the ones I'd borrowed had what felt like full size piano legs for handles and when I got home it was definitely time for the methocarbamol Dr Cody had scripted me. Sheesh. Good fun, good fatigue.

Tonight, now - I was close to the edge of getting to bed early rather than going to the Wet Spot Mardis Gras party but a couple things got my ass moving. One, one of the hosts is Panther, who is leaving on a 2 week trip around the country tomorrow so I wanted to wish her well. Two, I got an email from KSlave this afternoon bubbling with enthusiasm about the journal write up of our first attempt at saline injection of her labia a week ago and asking if I'd be there tonight. And - if those two weren't good enough reasons - Panther had bragged on the food. Ya know, I'd pretty well finished my crawdads and croc tail [or was it alligator tail - I'm not sure] before I even knew what I was eating. [...like tough chicken, that's what the tail tasted like, tough chicken...]. The food was good and the bead exchanges were a tad bit more ... interesting than the simple stuff you see on late night C*O*P*S reruns. More than once I heard "I'm not playing, I'm just giving out/collecting beads." Viktor, Chloe, Panther, Mistress Matisse, Tristan, KSlave, and many more folks were there having fun. Lots of friends, including quite a few from the larger sex positive community than just the BDSM Usual Suspects. I took one set of butt swats to get some beads - dear Derek is so cute in that leather outfit - and gave some swats also in the shedding of beads. The line of the night? KSlave to her husband and master, C: "You can't touch me unless you give me beads first!" Priceless for the frozen expression on his face. The last string of beads I gave out? In exchange to that same KSlave for a wonderfully breathtaking good night kiss. Damn. Hotdamn. That girl can kiss. Just about fried my ears off and sucked my breath out.

The Mardi Gras party was a fun little interlude between a mostly gray Sunday morning and getting into the work week mode of a Sunday night bedtime. And life continues mostly good. G'night, y'all.

  • The Usuals ==

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