Family: January 2008 Archives
'You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right.' - The Police, Roxanne (this version El Tango de Roxanne)
Last night, the husband and I went to his work's annual party. The theme was Club Variete and I'm just sorry I didn't dress it up more. I was dressy, but I could have been so bustier, garters, frills, hats and capes. Oh my.
It was held in the Thalia Theater in Ijmuiden. There were waiters circulating with endless glasses of wine, there were shows, there was a magician. The dude made foam rabbits appear in my hand, copulate and reproduce. Cute. Rabbitsex in my hand.
He also did stuff with various bits of rope, cards, the appearance and disappearance of diamonds (yes please!) The fire-eating lady who was super-sexy, people were dressed up as tigers and go-go girls (and that was just the colleagues, not the show!). There were tango dancers doing their sexy intense thing, there was a hot DJ, who played 'Last night a DJ saved my life'.
There was this dude on stilts doing the most amazing stuff, jugglers, a parrot, yummy food; the latter despite a salmon dish that appeared to have shrimp in it only after I already had it on my plate. Had I eaten it, this blog entry would not exist.
I danced all night with K, while Husband and C got progressively more cheery. We rocked. Girls are always more fun on the dance floor, although some of those couples were having a bit more bang for their buck, if you get my meaning.
This morning the husband is still in bed, hungover. I'm on the couch listening to and watching TMF with only a little bit of a headache from my moderate three glasses of wine. The kids are playing Nintendo. We are all in pyjamas. The daring baking is waiting.
The wind is blowing and I'm writing. I have an idea for a short story, the theme of fantasy versus reality. This is what I wrote to a friend today:
'Imagination only takes you so far. It can't substitute for weight, touch, the heaviness of another person leaning into you, smell, smooth skin, the sound of someone's breath, the talking into each other's mouths while you kiss, the sweat running down into the small of your back and pooling there, saltysweet.'
