Dec. 10th, 2003

evile: (clutter)

 

    Dec. 10, 2003

     

     

    I won the hip scarf I was bidding on at ebay--only
    $25, including shipping! They're about $50 at
    shimmyshimmy.com! I paid via paypal & it should be
    here in plenty of time for Decemberween. I have a
    whole costume now: red velvet slippers ($6 at
    Goodwill), necklace, belt, harem pants, top
    & skirt (shimmyshimmy.com, $102). And I got a
    strapless bra at Ross for like $6. Not bad!

    We got a cold front yesterday afternoon, so it should
    be dry enough this evening to try to make a batch of
    Lynn Cookies :) Even if the meringue falls, they taste
    good. Just don't look right.

    Tonight is Craft Night at Sharjinka's. And I *do* tend
    to get things done more at craft night than I do at
    home. It's a matter of focus, I think. At home, I get
    distracted by my computer, and the fact that my work
    room needs a major re-org, and I don't get as much
    done. When I go to craft night, I just gather up ONLY
    what I need to get a project done, and it gets done.

    Tonight: resew buttons & fix Celtic dress. Also maybe fix ankle bells
    for Decemberween costume.

    Tomorrow's my Friday. I've decided to hit 2 wineries on my way to the
    coast: Poteet Country Winery (sweet strawberry wine & native
    grape wines) and Dry Comal Creek Vineyards (they are the only TX
    vineyard that uses French Colombard grapes)

    skye_ds has decided not to drive to the coast Friday night after all,
    but to time their arrival 1 hour before the faire opens on Saturday.
    So very very very glad I am not attempting to vend this event, as my
    setup requires at least 1.5 hours. Without being too bossy or naggy,
    I suggested she give herself a bit more lead time on Saturday
    morning, for traffic & also because this will be their first trip to
    Ingleside and they don't know the streets or parking situation once
    they get here. I'll probably get my ass chewed & head bitten off for
    making the suggestion, but... enh. I don't know why I should care.
    It's not my gig. I will just need to keep reminding myself (& them)
    of this as the need arises.

evile: (clutter)
 

 

 

    Dec. 10, 2003

     

    Went to bed as soon as I got home yesterday, had a heart-pounding
    nightmare:

    It was about going to a BDSM party with my Sweetie.

    throm was leading big shirtless hairy men around on leashes,
    while they wore these creepy flesh-colored masks that piped in
    nitrous or something. Sweetie was one of his pets for a little while,
    and then he bought a mask & gas tanks from throm and was tinkering
    around with the gas valve in the mouth of the mask.

    In the meantime, I was adding a lasagne to the potluck spread.
    Rkentpseth's Michael was there, I think it was his red wine that I drank.
    I ate and also drank 2 glasses of wine, and then I was sitting on the
    floor in a living room, unable to move. This Yankee-sounding domme I
    couldn't see and hadn't seen before I found myself sitting on the
    floor was behind me, giving me orders and I was apparently on roofies
    or whatever, because I couldn't move or even talk enough to
    say "lady, you got the wrong gal!"

    Yankee Domme kept tying this wet gauzy muslin type fabric over my
    face & around my neck and giving me orders & calling me names and I
    just sat there helplessly. She finally gave up, saying something
    like "Well, you won. You didn't respond at all!" She got up and
    walked out of the room, I just saw her back as she left all mad.

    Then I was finally able to move, but I couldn't stand up. I was
    crawling down a hallway, trying to find someone to ask for help. I
    got to a place in the hallway where there were some downward-bound
    stairs on the left an a pastel bedroom on the right. Inside the
    bedroom was a girl in some frilly girly PJs. I was trying to
    say "help me, call 911" and I couldn't speak, I was just making all
    these horrible noises.

    Then I woke up.

    Gah.

    Worst. Nightmare. Ever.

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