In which I finally tell you all about GBM!

I’m somewhat ashamed that I only blogged twice while I was actually traveling to a blogger meet-up, but there were the issues of laptop shortages, busyness, fatigue, and inebriation and I flickred and twittered like a demon so it’s not like there wasn’t some content.

Let me say first that I love all the bloggers I met. Love them. Didn’t meet a single soul I didn’t like, but fell particularly in love with Vuboq (omg, the unrelenting Southern hospitality and the cheese grits), Hypenated Non-Identity, and I Think I Need A New Heart… though I pretty much expected to love those boys. All sweet, wonderful people.

Secondly, all of Vuboq’s friends are, to a one, lovely people. He’s an incredibly fortunate person. The pre-birthday party on Saturday night was populated by nothing but wonderful people, most of whom were excessively pretty gay men with cute jeans and cute hair and cute shoes… Since I’m essentially style-free I knew I’d be utterly outclassed, and I was. (I mean, it’s not like I don’t know I spent fifteen years in freakin’ Iowa and then moved here to hicksville.)

Thirdly, Vuboq drinks like a fish. He tried to blame it all on us, his guests, but who kept ordering pitchers of margaritas? And sangria, huh? I shall tell you: it was VUBOQ.

On Sunday we went out for Mexican food and then went to a gay bar called Cobalt where we drank cheap cocktails and didn’t dance. Ray told an hysterical story about thinking, when he was eight or so, that his mom – an undercover cop – was actually a hooker. Then Canada disappeared with a pocket gay named Billy and barely returned in time to get a ride home with the rest of us, thoroughly freaking Only Me out. When we got home from that, I poured another round and Vuboq and I sat on his bed and had a twitter war and laughed ourselves silly – I had so much fun I can’t even express it, because WHO KNEW Vuboq could, with sufficient booze in him, start doing a strange and wonderful Cartman-meets-lolcats accent?! Certainly not me. He’s just lucky I didn’t wet his damn bed.

On Saint Patrick’s Day, the actual birthday, Hyphenated left at six to make a business meeting in Pittsburgh. Hours later, Only Me made breakfast in bed for the Birthday Princess… and then we just lounged around until past three because we were all hung over. Eventually we left for DC, and we walked the Mall but didn’t go into any of the museums because we were useless and so we opted instead to go get tapas and sangria at Jaleo. (There really aren’t any words for how amazing the food is there, so I won’t bother. Suffice it to say that you should eat there the next time you’re in DC.)

We took the Metro home. Only Me went to pick up the GBM t-shirts he’d ordered, and Vuboq and I stopped at Whole Paycheck to get a few things. Then we went home and I did the dishes and then made an awesome pot of veggie chili. Tomoko and hubby, as well as SCGB, dropped in to eat with us. We killed two bottles of wine.

Today I got up at ten to six, dressed, and then took a bus, two trains, another bus, three planes, and a car. I was home by 6:35. I’ve blogged and uploaded photos and now I’m going to pass the hell out because I have to work tomorrow.