This weekend was the 16th annual Lesbian and Gay Dinner Dance (whose webpage hasn’t been updated in, well, a while, but you get the gist), a local benefit for the AIDS Task Force.
Usually a good time, and this year we had a table full of friends. Rich and Jeanne came in from Milwaukee, and Jeanne dazzled us all with her card playing competitiveness. If anything was missing, it was booze; for some reason, I just didn’t drink as much. Oh well, it was fun to watch Kacee (who is straight and a woman) give all the gay boys “fuck me eyes” on the dance floor. I’ll put up pictures at some point.
Sunday Garrett and I went to Indianapolis to meet up with my friend Michelle and Curtis. I went to Purdue with Michelle and Curtis, and now Michelle is working on her PhD at American University, so I don’t get to see them that often. It was great to see them both and spend the evening quoting MST3K and reminiscing about [STRIKEOUT:better] simpler times. Add to that the fact I managed to use Geertz and Wagner as a punchline, and you have a good time.
Of course, not all was wonderful this weekend. On Saturday afternoon, Melissa Minix ran into the side of my car with her lovely 87 Beretta (I’m guessing, but you get the idea). The experience turned a little surreal, though, over the past few days as her story went from “I don’t want a claim, I’ll pay for it myself,” to “You were so speeding, it’s not all my fault,” to “Well I was going to get rid of the car, so I was letting the insurance lapse, and don’t know if it has yet,” to “Maybe I could just pay your deductible and you could file it as a hit and run.” Right. So longer story short, I’ll probably end up getting fucked one way or another on this, but I’ve given up on “working it out” with her and will let my insurance company handle it from here on in. It’s just easier.