M is for Myg

It was my birthday, and tensions among my palsies were rising like a tide of sewage erupting from the depths of Philly itself.

Johnny and Gala had a massive falling out, their friendship seemed kablooey ooey.

Gala had given Starr the ole What the Fuck For right in the middle of Tattletales. (This is an older shot from the first night Starr had pissed Gala off, but you get the idea of where this relationship is headed…)

Then I had yet another argument with Ben, too. Probably, in all likelihood, the last argument and the last conversation I’m likely to have with him. Later on, he silently gave me back some things I’d given him, so I’m taking the hint.

Don’t think I wasn’t fuming about it either, because I was. I mean, I never wanted things to turn out so danged badly, but shit, there are some things even I can’t make come out okay. My friendship with Ben in the toilet, that’s a prime example right there. More drama by hitting Read More.

Gala felt like such ubershit over everything that she didn’t even want to come to the party, let alone host it like she’d long planned. I really couldn’t blame her either, as given the look of things it seemed like the party was going to be a huge soap opera. Alex scrambled to make some other arrangements with Romana, then our pal DC Punk, and it seemed we’d have the party at his club instead. That would have been cool, for sure, but man, it wasn’t going to be the same. Sigh.

Midday, the day of my birth, and I am hanging out in Philly. Gala then pops on she seems a little brighter than the night before and says she isn’t going to miss her friend’s birthday party on account of a bunch of bullshit. Ding, ding, ding, ding, the bells are ringing. “Then come!” I said. She must have had a hard change of heart, because next thing I know, Alex comes running into the room, “The party’s gonna be in Philly! Wooooot!”

Fuck yeah.

Nevermind that I’d been so distracted by trying to finish this blog for its debut that I hadn’t even gotten a new outfit. Oh, heavens, the tragedy of showing up to one’s birthday party without a new frock! So who do you think I called in a right hurry?

Why, Mistress Lisa, of course!

Lord give me *any* excuse to call this delectable creature and I’ll do it, but when it comes to shopping, there is no one with more SL expertise and certainly no one with better taste. (I mean, she is French for god’s sake, so what would you expect?) She and Vanny came to my rescue, tp’ing me to !WRONG, one of my personal favorites.

For all of our shopping intentions, this Saint of a woman (yes, she has that side too) ended up loaning me a couple of her very own signature pieces. And I looked like this:

Man did I turn some heads in this outfit. What a pal that Lisa is (and then some, but that’s a different entry). Anyway, Lisa, Vanny and I all made a grand entrance to the party, late of course, like the hot diva vixens we are. I was sooo happy to see everyone there, and I could not believe the trouble that Gala went through to make the place look spectacular. From the balloons and lights

to the dancefloor and booze

the back quad of our Section 8 squalor had really come to life. I was overwhelmed with it, really. All of my friends made an effort to get there. Lisa and Vanny were up all hours in their crazy European timezone. Vanny nearly killed us all with her pyrotechnics…

…her dazzling fireworks which were the highlight of the party…

Of course, photos can never capture the experience, and certainly not the deafening explosions that had all of Philadelphia convinced it was under attack!

Alex, that gorgeous hunk of a guy, turned out to be the BEST SL DJ I’ve ever listened to. And I’m not even the slightest bit biased. Really! He worked his ass off to get the stream working and then picked a ton of amazing tunes to keep us dancing well into the night.

The DJ booth was an awesome gift from DC Punk, who was there with a friend, Margarethe.

Gala and Romana were busting out to Alex’s badass groove.

The quiet, unassuming sexy Sable, who also went to a hell of a lot of trouble for little ole Myg, was surveying the proceedings, seemingly with approval.

We had no idea, but Sable is one kick ass jewelry designer. We are trying to convince her that she needs to consign this little item - which she made me for my birthday.

Actually, not a bad item to consign in Razorblade Foreplay, if Johnny gets the store up and running. And speaking of Johnny, I was wondering if he was gonna show up. I knew things between he and Gala were not good, and I told him I understood if he wanted to skip it. I mean, who wants to hang out in a place where you’re bound to run into someone you’re at odds with? But no, he insisted he would be there. But he wasn’t there.

“Where’s Johnny?” Kotone asked. “Oh, he’s not on yet.”

Though at this point it was getting late and no Johnny, so I wondered.

“What a fagobeefie” Kotone said.
“Fagobeefie?”
“It’s my new word. I just made it up!” I love Kotone.

I loved her anyway, but I loved her even more for inventing such a righteous addition to the Section 8 lexicon.

Then what do you know? The Fagobeefie showed up!

Clearly, he sensed that he was not attired correctly to be dubbed the Fagobeefie of the night, so he donned his thong and pink tank promptly and started showing the correct amount of ass. BIG HUG went to Johnny for coming to ma partie, despite all the shite that was going down.

And even Cici made it out, lit from both hands, and no funky chicken dance this time.

We partied well into the night, with me, Alex, Gala and Tobias winning the all night party award. Alex and me transformed a little, me in my Xander bloody top and rubber gloves, Alex with his undead skin.

Everybody behaved exceptionally well, except for Inri, who was such a DICK over IM with me that I had to tell Gala, “If you see him, please orbit that motherfucker on sight, no questions asked.” She was at the ready, but he never managed to find us down the alley from the TP spot. I never said the guy was a genius. But shit, how can you pick a fight with me on my god damned birthday man? I mean I know we fight and all, but shit. Give it a rest one day.

I ended the night with a visit to TORVALD in Baku - you remember him? Well, I think I was too harsh on him at first. Yeah, he and his friends do some crazy stuff and some of it I may not agree with, but at least the kid has a damned good sense of humor, and for me, this goes a long, long way.

There’s a lot more to the Torvald story beyond my birthday party, but I’ll just leave you with this picture of him in his fancy Hulkmania avatar, and pick up the thread in another post.

I will tease you with this nugget though. Imagine what would happen if Torvald and his pals from Baku found their way into club Phat Cat? What insanity then?

As for my birthday, all ended in a sleepy happy love pile back in the hood. I can’t thank everyone enough for making it such a great night. There are even more pics in my photo stream at FlickR, so feel free to hop on over there and see who made it on camera.

Another year down people. I hope a many more to go.

This entry was posted on Friday, March 16th, 2007 at 7:46 pm and is filed under Friends of Myg, Second Life.