I think, Im dying...

no, seriously, my hearing is gone, my neck and throat have almost entirely closed up, my eyes dont want to open, both my nose, and my ass, are running.
My intire body feels like its been hit by a tractor trailer and finished off by a combine.

That being said, last night was fun.
As soon as we arrived, while I was still waiting for Tigger to park the car, I saw one of the few friends I have there, and she stayed and chatted with me untill Tigger showed up,and then the three of us went down into the bowels of the convention center.
It seemed like there were less skanks then last year (only saw one girl whos boots covered more material then her dress) and more gowns.  Im *definitely* going full length next year.  Some of the dresses were "themed" as it was a "through the decades" party.  Although to my mind, the one of Tiggers friends who was done up in a peach crushed velvet suit totally won that area for the night.  He was even sporting the nasty stasche.
The table where we were seated was - ok.  We knew three of the people, at least.  The real issue was one of the ones who I had seen at previous parties but didnt know.  The first bad sign was that he was sitting "alone" at the table.  And by alone, I mean that both chairs on either side of him were empty.  The second was that he was so drunk, before the event even started, that he couldnt barely stand.
ok, Ill give him that - they were handing out complimentary glasses during the "mingling" stage of this amazing sparkling wine that tasted like cool-aid.  I had three glasses before I even realized it and after coming in from outside for a smoke, I realized *I* wasnt walking that great either.
Word of wisdom, learned last night?  Never have a metal chain purse with you, when its more then 20 below, if you like your fingers.
Anyways, back to Mr. Drunk and lonely.  He had at least two more beers, before the meal arrived, and by the time we got to the turkey, he was - pulling strips of skin off the bird with his bare hands and jamming them in his mouth.  It was, remarkably disgusting.
The meal was - incredible, for the most part, and my muses were gushing through the whole thing.
Butternut Squash soup with sunflower seed pesto.  This is absolutely my new faverate thing *ever*.  Never mind how entertaining it was to watch everybody eat around the "green gob" in the center of their bowls, not knowing they were supposed to stir it into their soup. 
The turkey was - possibly one of the best Ive ever had.  The veggies were thinly sliced peppers, onions, carrots and celery, all roasted with a few pieces of asparagus.  Whipped Mashed potatoes with cranberry sauce (made, not bought).  I didnt eat the stuffing, but Tigger tells me it was less then perfection.
And then there was dessert.
If I hadnt already been sick enough to think I was dying, I would have thought I was in heaven anyways.  Perfectly done little bowls of spiced creme brulee, with a sliced strawberry in whipped creme on the side, a chocolate "wave stick" balanced on that, and next to it, a small Grand Marnier Truffle.
What I really couldnt believe is that one of the people at our table turned their noses up at it, saying that it looked to weird for them.  I snagged their chocolate and their strawberry.
They had a live band, with a horns section.  They had a DJ, for when the band was on breaks.  *and* they had a dance instructor.  So they were actually teaching people the electric slide, and how to disco.  It was remarkably awesome.
Oh yes, and the decorations... The usual convention chairs covered over in white satin, the silver and glass and holly centerpieces off of which everything reflected.  Each napkin done in a different piece of folded art  at the table.  It was so gorgeous.
By the time the dance came, we had switched tables to one where we had a few more friends.  It was much more relaxing.  And what totally made my night, was that one of the men suggested we have a group photo of us all taken. (Yes, they also had professional photographers there, printing out digital copy for you)  So all of us, five couples filed up and got in the frame together.  It was the first time, in a long time, that Ive felt part of something greater then me.
Clayton actually danced with me, which is truely a rarity.  But it also made me start coughing so badly I couldn't stand, and I could no longer disguise the fact that I was so sick.  SO it wasn't long after our couple of dances, that we headed for neocitrine land, and home.

Oh, and *before* the event?  Yeah, they forgot about my hair appt.  Lost, it, actually.  So I ended up with thier master stylist - who didnt listen to a word I said, gave me a haircut I didnt want, and then didnt style it much at all because *apparently* you cant do a hell of a lot with a bob.  And charged me twice as much as what I usually pay, on top of it.
It was the first time in my life, I didnt tip my stylist.
Then, in the parking lot - *sighs*
My pantyhose fell off - right down to my thighs as I was walking back to my car.
SO much for wearing those on the *outside* of the spanx.
At least I figured that one out, before I got on the dance floor?

So that was yesterday.
Today, I am child free, so sick and hurting I want to curl in a ball and die, and still have to dress up *again* to go and see Billy Connely, who I *will* be attending, even if they have to wheel my frozen dead corpse in.
So there.