A Weekend of Mystique to Cut Out Cancer

I wore a sequin dancer's costume with a tulle skirt, red elbow-length formal gloves, and feathers in my hair to Saint-Ex last night. None of the other hosts of Team Cuttler's A Night of Mystique were with me in their sequins. Oh, and I totally got picked up like a gazillion times and not one guy asked me why I was dressed like we were backstage at the Folies Bergere in Vegas.

The Pea, Vive, and I made hundreds of 100 proof vodka filled Jello shots on Friday night. Then we stirred up more bottles of alcohol than Paris Hilton's table at her own, namesake club to make the miraculously tasty Potion Punch (okay, now we can say what's in it: 2 parts rum, 2 parts vodka, 2 parts gin, 2 parts triple sec, 1 part peachtree schnapps, tropical punch Koolaid, and fresh mango juice). We had to keep tasting it throughout the night, and I can almost swear we were all a little drunk for the cooking. We didn't notice that the Costco Dixie cups we purchased were for cold beverages only and not lined in wax. The Pea looked in the fridge only to discover that a round of shots had become a cookie sheet long Jello shot. We double layered the cups, and it did the trick.

Cherry Jello stains, in case you didn't know. Our hands looked like we'd be sunburned on the tips of our fingers only.

We arrived at the Quebec House on Saturday morning at 9am to start the preparations. I'd last counted having 150 stars to hang from the ceiling and stick on the walls. I was wrong. I had 300. The room has no windows and good lighting. With the stars hanging, a disco ball, low lighting, and a black and white Houdini silent movie on the big screen television, the room looked like the prom in an "Amanda Bynes or Hillary Duff in high school" movie scene. Glow sticks, feathers, and ring pops were on tables throughout.

We had fortune cookies, fortune sticks, origami fortune tellers, fortune ask-the-fish, and a tarot card reader and palm reader/ handwriting analyst. A magician performed tricks on black felt. A belly dancer performed a 30-minute show in green sequins. The DJs spun a mix of upbeat dance tunes. And all the hosts wore sequin gowns and gloves. Jer wore a top hat, tux, and white gloves. He carried a wand around and did tricks for everyone. Margaret Allen was there to take professional pictures of the evening.

My handwriting analysis by Yossef was totally right on. I was told I have so many talents I'm not using at all... that I'm a creative story teller, but my stories come back to bite me in the ass (blog)... that I am good at making decisions but not high strung... that I put 100% into whatever I do.... that I'm a little disorganized. He suggested that I start spending time making round a's and o's in my cursive. It will be the hardest thing I've ever done, but it will help me straighten out my life more. I'll let you know if doing so changes my fate.

I'd made an astrological match-up chart (the most basic one I could find), and we had tags that people could put on with their star sign. The goal was for people to meet others who they were supposed to get along with and see if the stars were correct. Well, at the table, I overheard the following conversation by two guests I didn't know. "OMG! You're supposed to be my match. I'm..." The two ended up dancing together all night and making out in a corner. We done good.

After the party, I was drunk. Too much Potion Punch for sure. I followed the Lost Boys to Saint-Ex for some dancing and more drinking. The light came on at 3am. I got a ride home with a friend and woke up this morning feeling like the solar system had collapsed on my head.

We all met at the Quebec House at 9am to clean up the mess we'd created. 4 labor intensive hours later (and 3 trips to the bathroom for me to throw up), we finished cleaning with plenty of the day left to recover. I attempted to sleep, but gave up after an hour and caught up with friends on the phone instead.

I'm going to bed. Practicing some cursive first though.