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Talkaboutcher pickmeups. Hair rehearsal was grueling and neither en- nor discouraging due to the absence of 7 cast members (we couldn't really tell how we're progressing), and then Dan invited all to his house for booze. He tends to be hosting with the cast parties, especially of casts he's not necessarily in. It's okay, he wasn't the only one. He came and got me and Joodles, when Joodles responded superenthusiastically to a text asking if he was up for booze and a movie at Dan's.
No movie was needed. Cast trickled in, with all my favorites making an appearance, and at the height it was a hapnin' joint. Of course, Joodles inaugurated the dance floor with me, twisting and deforming the Latin dances we knew to work with the Peyroux jazz beats playing, till we ran out of that and ransacked Dan's mp3 player for something with rhythm (there wasn't anything, so we had to turn on the radio to a Latin station). I ended up teaching several people (particularly Ariel, since I like her and I was saving her from interaction with people she'd just had a falling-out with; I, as the only undrunk person at the party, also took her home in Dan's car later) the little I knew, and making Joodles teach them the rest. He's a much better lead than I am, clearly, and it's easier to learn when you're led well.
I find it unfair that the drunker he gets, the worse my balance gets. It was not my shiningest dancy moment, but I wasn't terrible, and the populace was easily impressed. It was a supremely good time for me and Joodles, even better than the standard little salsa gatherings at my house. He's the most affectionate drunk I've ever met (to everyone, not just me), and he rarely stopped grinning or telling me how glad he was we danced or that I was still his favorite even though Meghan was really light (this was reassuring to my well-squelched insecurities). He was exceptionally huggy, all over everyone he knew (and some he didn't), and kissed my head or hand so many times I lost count (he asked, and I couldn't recall, though I knew it was more than five, and he was taken aback and suggested we establish a quota).
By the end of the night (around 5am), it was me, Stephan, Trevor, and Joodles in a pile in the pillow room, and let me tell you, Trevor and Joodles are as pleasant a pair of boys to pet in your lap and lie on and be skritched by (Trevor, there, is a genius hairplayer) as I can imagine. Stephan got in his competitive, superior mood by the time the drunkenness was wearing off, while Joodles just got sillier and sillier and regressed to five years of age socially, attempting with varying degrees of infantile grabbiness for over an hour to steal Stephan's glasses to try them on. Stephan and Trevor discussed their respective gay experiences, and Joodles and I made snide or insightful commentary by turns. Stephan assaulted Joodles more than once, and he came to hide behind me before really getting close to falling asleep.
By the time everyone had been taken home (Stephan brought me back), I crashed so hard that Dan's five phone calls didn't wake me, even though I'd turned the ringer on (I almost never do that) and put it in my pocket so I'd feel it. I'd agreed to impersonate a pianist for him at his photoshoot this morning. I'm not quite clear on what it's a photoshoot for, but he's supposed to look like an opera singer, and I wouldn't actually have had to play the piano, just look like I knew how. Luckily, he found some cellist in the hall who could do the job while I snored on oblivious, and was understanding when I finally woke around noon and called back.
Tomorrow we're going skydiving, finally. Hee.
No movie was needed. Cast trickled in, with all my favorites making an appearance, and at the height it was a hapnin' joint. Of course, Joodles inaugurated the dance floor with me, twisting and deforming the Latin dances we knew to work with the Peyroux jazz beats playing, till we ran out of that and ransacked Dan's mp3 player for something with rhythm (there wasn't anything, so we had to turn on the radio to a Latin station). I ended up teaching several people (particularly Ariel, since I like her and I was saving her from interaction with people she'd just had a falling-out with; I, as the only undrunk person at the party, also took her home in Dan's car later) the little I knew, and making Joodles teach them the rest. He's a much better lead than I am, clearly, and it's easier to learn when you're led well.
I find it unfair that the drunker he gets, the worse my balance gets. It was not my shiningest dancy moment, but I wasn't terrible, and the populace was easily impressed. It was a supremely good time for me and Joodles, even better than the standard little salsa gatherings at my house. He's the most affectionate drunk I've ever met (to everyone, not just me), and he rarely stopped grinning or telling me how glad he was we danced or that I was still his favorite even though Meghan was really light (this was reassuring to my well-squelched insecurities). He was exceptionally huggy, all over everyone he knew (and some he didn't), and kissed my head or hand so many times I lost count (he asked, and I couldn't recall, though I knew it was more than five, and he was taken aback and suggested we establish a quota).
By the end of the night (around 5am), it was me, Stephan, Trevor, and Joodles in a pile in the pillow room, and let me tell you, Trevor and Joodles are as pleasant a pair of boys to pet in your lap and lie on and be skritched by (Trevor, there, is a genius hairplayer) as I can imagine. Stephan got in his competitive, superior mood by the time the drunkenness was wearing off, while Joodles just got sillier and sillier and regressed to five years of age socially, attempting with varying degrees of infantile grabbiness for over an hour to steal Stephan's glasses to try them on. Stephan and Trevor discussed their respective gay experiences, and Joodles and I made snide or insightful commentary by turns. Stephan assaulted Joodles more than once, and he came to hide behind me before really getting close to falling asleep.
By the time everyone had been taken home (Stephan brought me back), I crashed so hard that Dan's five phone calls didn't wake me, even though I'd turned the ringer on (I almost never do that) and put it in my pocket so I'd feel it. I'd agreed to impersonate a pianist for him at his photoshoot this morning. I'm not quite clear on what it's a photoshoot for, but he's supposed to look like an opera singer, and I wouldn't actually have had to play the piano, just look like I knew how. Luckily, he found some cellist in the hall who could do the job while I snored on oblivious, and was understanding when I finally woke around noon and called back.
Tomorrow we're going skydiving, finally. Hee.