Dropped Balls and Phone Calls
Not because it's not a great event. I've been before and had big fun. And I think women, even straight women, can get a lot out of a women-only event. Granted, I'm not straight, but I know women who are entirely heterosexual (yes, really) who they tell me they always learn a lot of new stuff and have fun hanging out without the whole guy-energy thing happening. So especially if you're still learning about BDSM - and god, who isn't, really? - women's events are cool.
That said, I forgot to register. I think it was a freudian slip - we have guests coming, and then I leave for Folsom in a week, and then I get back and dive directly into a visit from my mother, who I love, but who wants all of my attention when she's in town. Like, all of it, all the time. I just think I'm going to feel a little socialized-out by the time Oct 12th rolls around.
And then I heard registration was closed - they got filled up. C'est la vie, I thought. I should stay home and chill anyway.
However, apparently some pals of mine are planning the most awesomely awesome scene I have ever heard of in my life, a pure stroke of Milton Bradley genius, and I'd like to see it. And Jae let me know she wanted me to thrash her severely, which is always a charming prospect.
"But registration's closed," I told Jae.
"Ma'am," she said impatiently, "you're Mistress fucking Matisse! Talk to somebody. Call in some favors. They'll let you in."
"Ma'am," she said impatiently, "you're Mistress fucking Matisse! Talk to somebody. Call in some favors. They'll let you in."
Huh. I don't share her utter certainly, but... it does seems like this local notoriety ought to be good for something. Perhaps I will fire off some emails and see who I can sweet-talk about admission to one of the parties, at least. We'll see how far reputation gets a girl in this town.
