Wow, so Friday night turned out to be boatloads of fun, and not in a Titanic sort of way. More like a QM2 sort of way.

First, Minka singing. I met new friend Karen Abbott at the gallery just before and when we went in just as Minka opened her lungs to the heavens, Karen turned to me, eyes wide, and looked at her bare arm prickling up with goose bumps. Somehow we managed to sit throughout the performance and bond w/ some of Minka's old friends. But apparently we unnerved Minka by actually sitting and listening to her, so around her third set she asked us all to continue talking, which was fine, until one friend admitted to being a Sarah Lawrence grad, and her fiance admitted to being a Columbia grad and the conversation went to naming some famous grads of said uni's. No one knew a Sarah Lawrence grad (at least not w/in my ear shot) and although everyone agreed there were puh-lenty of famous Columbia grads, few names were coming to mind.

"Rosanne Rosanadana," said me. and the evening's laughter as off to a good start w/ mascara running down my cheeks from laughing so hard as I recounted the Gilda Radner skit from SNL. she was so frelling brlliant.

THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED?

having swooned to Minka's gorgeous soprano voice, the crowd waltzed across the street to a bar where we sat for 'tini's and conversation. So, we've already introduced Minka's old friends, and my new friend. And then there was this guy we picked up at the gallery where Minka performed. Now, we had chit chatted at the gallery very briefly (I commended him for actually buying some art while at the gallery) and somehow he'd made it across the street with us. As we sat down at our table I asked him,

"So, do you know anyone at this table?"

And he did not, other than the brief introduction w/ Minka at the gallery and the few words crossing the street.

"Well, Alrighty then!" How very Harold Pinter!

A very nice addition to our coat of many colors. But I was pretty aghast when he recommended a "cheesesteak" martini.

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT???? and WHY OH WHY WOULD ANYONE EVER WANT TO DRINK IT???

him: cheese CAKE martini.

me: oh. heh heh.

AND THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED???

A young woman, complete and total stranger to all of us, walked over and stood between him and me and asked the table

"So, what's the story about all of you?"

how very bold!

I, of course, had to play hard to get, but Minka dove right in and introduced all of us in a manner of speaking and inquired about the young woman who was thusly bowled over that we would be such a diverse group of peeps sitting at the same table, obviously having a good time. She did admit to talking about us w/ the bar tender, certain we all worked together because there was no way we could all be friends.

Don't you love pleasantly surprising people?

That young woman became a total fan of ours. I think we'll be seeing her again at the next function we have at that gallery, certainly at the next Minka performance.

AND THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HAPENED???

Newboy Reg convinced Minka and me to go out for another night cap. We did our best to talk everyone else into having an after-after party with us but no one wanted to ride that ride. they all thought we were crazy.

Turns out, they were right.

We went to this terrific martini bar which is undoubtedly the most smoke-filled bar I've been to, but also where a TERRIFIC, throaty singer was owning every song she put her microphone and cigarette to. I was pulled away by an older guy who really, seriously wanted to be my friend (w/ his hand on my ass), but he had such a soft head of hair, I found it easy to rest my head upon it.

him: you don't need to be leaning against that wall. you need to be leanin' against me!

now who could resist THAT?

but when his "I just wanna be your lov-ah-lov-ah-lov-ah-boy" routine got redundant, I made the face (all you girls know the one) and Minka and Reg bailed me out. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

then we sat our carcasses on a back room couch (velvet, and well worn, thank you very much) and made each other giggle through another hour or so before they really did throw us out at 3am. THREE A.M. holy frelling cow! I haven't been out that late having a good time since going to the Bowen wedding in NYC --



Ain't we purdy??

the next day, which wasn't far away as I landed safely back home at precisely 4:04 am, mr. zippy awoke me at 8:30 to lovin' touchin' squeezin' surprising sex.

there are three kinds of sex:

HOT SEX -- that's any and all on the sprectrum of hot. hot is hot. even if it's hotter than hot, smokin' hot, and hottest of them all kinda hot. right?

then there's

NORMAL SEX -- servicable, but nothing special. gets the job done, one way or another. comes in handy when you're both tired but horny.

and then there's

SURPRISING SEX -- the kind of sex that feels so good you're in absolutely no hurry to cum. that's damn good sex. no one's in a hurry, or on an agenda, you're just makin' out with the one you love and it's nobody's bidness but your own.

Turns out, Surprising Sex is instigated by staying out all night and not calling your beloved because it's gotten so late you don't want to wake him, so when he gets up to pee at 3am and you still aren't home, he's worried. and by the time you do get home, he's not quite asleep but awake just enough to feel your presence so that when he DOES wake up, he's so happy you aren't in a hospital or in a coma or in a coffin and he's such an amazing person his reaction is not to yell, not to pout, but to take you in his arms and make you feel like you're brand new all over again.

that's a beautiful thing.