kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Keeping Y'all Posted (or) Strike One, Hussy! After snarling about the wanton hussy who was pursuing my husband (see last Wednesday's entry, "Stand By Yer Maaaan", for those joining the program in progress) I felt better due to that wonderful axiom--if you can't beat them bloody, humiliate them on the World Wide Web. And I must say, my very dear NonScheduled Readers, that much hilarity has ensued. But first, the update on the show, and Dealing with The Hussy: it was a non-event. Darn it. I had my speech (and my steel-toed boots) all...prepared, like. But the lead-up was precious. After whining in this venue, I sat the Darling Husband down to read it. And when my buddy A. called, not only did I chat with her about the whole situation, I sent HER off to read my journal entry. At which she laughed herself out of her chair, knowing all the personalities involved. This figures in significantly because my buddy A. was hiring Hussy and her husband to work for her in her booth at the Faire. Since A. has had her own issues with Hussies of Yore, as well as this Hussy in particular (um, not quite in that way, but Hussy had some rather slackerish ideas about what her employment consisted of at various times over the summer), A. is also suffering some chronic pain issues that make booth help a darn near necessity, and A. LIKES Hussy's husband and has been worried about the strain that Hussy's flirting has been telling on him... well, the stage was set. Meantime, various net-friends and NonScheduled Readers very kindly extended sympathy, advice, and truly hysterical suggestions on how to deal with Hussy. Most advised taking the high road, although one darling sent me into spasms by dubbing Hussy "She Who Deserves A Bitch Slapping" (thanks, Helen, I'll get over the hiccups soon, I'm sure.) The Chat Whores over to ThreeWayAction offered both voices of reason (waving...hi, CW!) and a few offers of mayhem. The sensible suggestion of Miss Amelia, whilst reducing me to a tear-streaming, giggling-like-a-madwoman wreck on the floor, unfortunately would not have worked because of the various leanings towards and away from bisexuality on the parts of the parties involved (she suggested that I start groping Hussy, for the record, and unfortunately I and Hussy's husband are the only dedicated serial monogamists in the group....Misfire might be the kindest way of describing what would ensue. Still. BWAH!) My dear Twin in Minnesota made a formal request that I punt her to the moon, with Twin's compliments. Twin's additional habit of referring to her as the chippie also induced pleasant Fargo pictures in my head as well as suffering fits of snerking over the unexpectedly flapper-like turn of speech. In short, by the time I got to the show on Saturday, I'd laughed myself flat into a coma and was mostly over my snit. The show, in case you were interested, dear NSR, was the Marketplace at Birka, an SCA event. www.birka.org, if you're terribly curious. We got on the road early-ish, got there, unloaded, and I strapped myself into my Battle Gear--ie, one of the hottest faux-Ren outfits anyone could own-- and we were off on the day. And by damn, I am shallow, but looking that good made me feel like a million dollars. The compliments didn't hurt, either. By the time Hussy and husband arrived in tow with A., we were up and rolling. And it was a busy, if not terribly lucrative, day-- more than busy enough, say, for A. to keep Hussy run off her feet....working...too busy to breathe, let alone flirt. BWAH! It didn't hurt, of course, that Bob the Beader (who is a gorgeous, gorgeous man...gay as the 1890's) was there to escort me on various smoke breaks, that I was meeting and greeting much of my SCA crowd that I knew from other shows....that my friend Jess the Brown was around...and that one of my Lost Children showed up, so I was over the moon anyway. (Lovely Girl was someone that the Darling Husband and I met and adopted a few years ago--after his then-roommate treated her like crap, she dropped out of sight to avoid the roommate, and we'd lost track of her. I'm happy to report that Lovely Girl is sewing beautiful things, and is happy and serene and lovely as ever.) There was plenty of time for puttering and shopping--and a great deal of the shopping came in the form of barter, which is always a thrill. One very, very talented woodburner came back to tell me especially that everyone was telling her "great trade!" about the two necklaces I swapped for one of her truly exquisite boxes. My list of I-gots is both impressive and a little frightening. It was a great day. So the issue of the Hussy may crop up again, dear NonScheduled Readers, but in the meantime I feel that I have carried the day--and thanks in part to you folks, I probably will end up laughing about it for months. Merci, dear friends, and bon soir. 10:47 p.m. - 2003-02-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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