dance your cares away...

"Fabulous" about sums it up. DragBall was a tremendous success! People were in various states of drag -- gender bending abounded. And we all got to see boobs. (One of the pro drag queens that performed had a few "Janet Jackson costume malfunctions.") Susan was rockin' a three-piece suit and a top hat, C. had a quasi-punk thing goin' on, and I looked like the long-lost gay newsie. Plus I had a silver spray-painted "pimp cane." (I'll post pictures as soon as C. sends them to me.) In spite of my glaring inability to dance, C. and I broke it down hardcore for most of the evening, and she actually said I'm a good follower, despite the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing (C's quite the dancer).

After the ball, we adjourned to C's house, played drunken Scrabble with her housemates, cuddled (yay for snuggles!), and then crashed (passed out) for the night.

Good times, good times.

Oh! And I was introduced to some cute lesbians at DragBall, which definitely bolsters my previously waning hope.