Thank you for all the advice you gave me yesterday. I shared it with my friend, and he's doing much better. I realized that my friend is actually a paranoid schizophrenic, so I had him committed to a mental institution until he can learn not to freak out about trivial matters. Maybe, if he behaves himself and takes his medication, he'll be rewarded with a pony by his bed. It truly is a delight to have a pony by your bed. It's also fun to have a pony actually in your bed.
Thanks Michael and Rob, for the link. It's the least you can do since you haven't called me for at least four days and - - um... never mind.
I had a chance to celebrate Pony's birthday with him last night. It's the first I've seen of him since his extensive dental surgery this past weekend. (I hope you didn't think yesterday's post was about him?!?) We had a great time, and I'm happy to report he is doing fine. I mean, he's really fine. He is so fine.
I entertained myself this past weekend by attending a flawlessly executed surprise party organized by The Executive. We also went to a fundraiser together, where he worked the room and searched for a wealthy husband. I was a bit out of my element. I felt like Diane Sawyer accompanying her husband, Mike Nichols, to the Oscars. Diane is famous in her own right, but the Academy Awards is her husband's turf. So, I was Diane (although my ensemble was more fashion-forward than hers) and The Executive was Mike. He, along with other "Mr. Bigs" (Bigses?) in town donated lots of money to Basic Rights Oregon. People were writing checks for thousands of dollars and announcing their pledges into the microphone.
"I'm campaigning for City Council, and I'm giving $5000," said one man.
"On behalf of my gay friends who just married, I am giving $7500," said another attendee.
I wanted so badly to take a microphone and say, "I just gave twenty bucks on behalf of my friend, The Executive. Actually, the twenty bucks was his. He slipped it to me under the table. But I wrote my name on the envelope all by myself. Thank you."
And, yes, the event was inspiring and moving. I cried each time someone sang a moving song or presented an award to someone fighting for equal rights for gays and lesbians.
I'm sure people at the table with me thought I was crazy. Paranoid schizophrenic even.