I checked my various e-mail accounts, checked to see if Robert was on AIM (he wasn't), read through the obituaries, and looked up the Bravo TV – Queer Eye on the Straight Guy, and Boy Meets Boy. I finished in less than my 30 minutes by about 3 minutes, and went over to the table area and finished my 3 postcards.
Steve came over when he was done, and he had looked at the obituaries, and the queer shows on Bravo as well. Funny. He actually knew someone in the obits – the mother of a friend of his mother's, I believe.
On the way back from the library, we stopped at the town commons area, and watched a little of the marionette lady there. Steve filled me in on the drama that had just occurred there when a police officer came and tried to get her to stop performing. It seems some (or one) of the local businesses right in that area were complaining that she was steeling business away from them. She, evidently, refused to stop saying something noble and patriotic such as, "I'll dance my way into jail if I have to."
Steve finished writing out his postcards there, and we started walking again. We stopped at the box office, in the Crown & Anchor area, to look at the list of shows and to try and decide on what we want to see for the rest of the week. We didn't purchase any tickets at the time, just talked about it. It seems like we both want to see Jimmy James, which will be tomorrow (Wednesday) night.
I went to the post office to mail my postcards, and Steve went to the Don't Panic shop and bought Brian the "Porn Star in Training" t-shirt. After that we stopped in Traders Village, where I bought this year's "Provincetown" refrigerator magnet, with the year on it like the one I bought in 2002. While there, I also bought three pads, which would make good EAGLE Party gifts if we do the gift exchange again this year. They say on them: "o.k., now that's enough boys! we've got flowers to arrange."; "now that i've got old lady kravitz' house set on fire, it should be about three minutes before those big, strong firemen arrive. do I look alright?"; and "mother of five. grandmother of twelve. drunk by seven." Love those.
I also bought a great black & white postcard of a dog laying on his back on a bed, with his legs open, in front of a fan. It's entitled, "Dog Cooling Himself, 1060" by Jack Tinney of LIFE Magazine. It's a great shot, and it reminds me of using the blow dryer on my "hairy spots," which of course reminds me of Robert.
We went back to the cottage after that, and I started drinking cocktails, which would be the beginning of a very drunk night. I made appetizers (Wheat Thins, linguisa, and squeeze cheese), and we woofed those down.
At about 6:30, very polluted, we decided to go check out the Tea Dance at the Guifford House. On the way, however, we passed "The Ranch," where Glitter Boy (who manages the place) was sitting out in the courtyard area, along with two handsome guys. Steve asked Glitter Boy if he could see one of the rooms, and went back with him. I sat down and started talking with the two guys, one of whom was from Australia, and the other, ?.
After a few minutes, a guy came up to us, who identified himself as bisexual, and married to a bisexual woman, and asked "where a good place to go was." We asked him some nosy questions, and eventually he went on his way.
After about a half hour there, we walked again needing to get something to eat. We stopped at Spiritus Pizza, and I got a slice of pepperoni, and a root beer. We stopped in the shop where the hot boy, who is a fireman from Florida, works, and said hello to his smiling face.
We ended up at Burger Queen, where I got to feeling very drunk, and a little queasy. Steve ordered a foot long hot dog, and I went across the street to use the bathroom at Cafe Blase again. I remember holding the wall in there while I was peeing.
Back at the Burger Queen, I told Steve that I wasn't feeling well, and was going to head back to the room. I stopped at "The Vault" on the way back, and there was no one in there. It was still quite early, about 9:30. I then stopped by "The Little Bar," which also was empty. I went upstairs, and there was the hunkiest bar tender (thick black beard, thick black hair on his chest and arms) sitting up on the bar, all alone.
I said hello, and leaned on the bar next to him. "You're not doing too well, are you?" he said. "Not really," I said. "They serve coffee downstairs if you need some." "Thanks," I said. "How about a diet coke straight up, can I get one of those?" "Sure," he said, served me, and refused my money. "You're a nice guy," I said as I left.
I got back to the cottage, and passed out on the bed. Way too much to drink today. I had been "on the verge" of throwing up several times throughout the night. It was good to be asleep. I should take it easy on the liquor tomorrow, which should be easy as my fifth of bourbon is already totally gone.