geeker joy
Wow, what a day to have no Internet access! Something went very wrong with our connections at work, and I was locked away from all the pictures and all of the Live Journally goodness. Have caught up as much as possible, and now find that I have very little "new" to say that other people haven't said way earlier and much more eloquently than I.
But I just have to say it anyway. PJ and Company wiped the freaking floor with Hollywood's "elite," and that gives me more joy than I thought could ever come out of Oscar night.
And my boys were there and were cuteness/hotness/classiness personified.
And I came home and went to bed with the soundtrack on, fell asleep to Billy singing and woke up to "Into the West," having in the space between the two had yet another variation of my These are the ones wherein my love for Billy is so pure and he is so good and perfect that I'm rarely allowed to touch him, much less just have at it as is my blinding desire. This time we were at a post-Oscar bash, and as usual, Dom saw me moping about my unrequited love for Billy and came over, and we had a heart-to-heart about how much I love Billy and how I should stop putting him up on such a pedestal, and then (instead of me using Dom for sex like happened the last time--clearly I'm feeling guilty for that), Dom pulled me to my feet, told me Billy adored me, marched me over to My New Boyfriend, and made me tell him how I felt. And then Billy and I traipsed about the party, holding hands and chatting with all of our LOTR friends.
It was just lovely, and I am the biggest dork in the world.
Okay. Guess that's about it. Could outline the rest of the weekend here, but no one needs or wants to hear the details of $22 worth of laundry. I guarantee it.
Oh, but before I go, a random observation:
I have this one pair of underwear that, no matter what, I always put on inside out. Even as I pull them from the drawer and think, "Pay attention, now, this is the pair that always ends up inside out," and then pay very close attention to how they're going on...NO MATTER WHAT, I always realize a bit later on that day that they're inside out. I think they're hexed somehow. Not that it's a huge crisis to be wearing one's undies inside out. But it's creepy, you know? Every time.
But I just have to say it anyway. PJ and Company wiped the freaking floor with Hollywood's "elite," and that gives me more joy than I thought could ever come out of Oscar night.
And my boys were there and were cuteness/hotness/classiness personified.
And I came home and went to bed with the soundtrack on, fell asleep to Billy singing and woke up to "Into the West," having in the space between the two had yet another variation of my These are the ones wherein my love for Billy is so pure and he is so good and perfect that I'm rarely allowed to touch him, much less just have at it as is my blinding desire. This time we were at a post-Oscar bash, and as usual, Dom saw me moping about my unrequited love for Billy and came over, and we had a heart-to-heart about how much I love Billy and how I should stop putting him up on such a pedestal, and then (instead of me using Dom for sex like happened the last time--clearly I'm feeling guilty for that), Dom pulled me to my feet, told me Billy adored me, marched me over to My New Boyfriend, and made me tell him how I felt. And then Billy and I traipsed about the party, holding hands and chatting with all of our LOTR friends.
It was just lovely, and I am the biggest dork in the world.
Okay. Guess that's about it. Could outline the rest of the weekend here, but no one needs or wants to hear the details of $22 worth of laundry. I guarantee it.
Oh, but before I go, a random observation:
I have this one pair of underwear that, no matter what, I always put on inside out. Even as I pull them from the drawer and think, "Pay attention, now, this is the pair that always ends up inside out," and then pay very close attention to how they're going on...NO MATTER WHAT, I always realize a bit later on that day that they're inside out. I think they're hexed somehow. Not that it's a huge crisis to be wearing one's undies inside out. But it's creepy, you know? Every time.