Stayin' Alive

So BO8RT came to one of my gigs this week and began the arduous job of meeting my friends (read: hundreds of dance world acquaintances whose names I can't remember). To his credit, he handled it well. He's seen me in my natural habitat now and can hang. All night I wondered if I could hear the distant call of the shrinking penis. But no. He was only intimidated by my heels.

If he can survive my event, in which I am queen bee presiding over 1,000 people for a few days - then we know he's a keeper.

Theo threw up Wednesday and Bobby threw up today and I started to feel extremely nauseated. What timing, huh? I've been cursing my luck all day, but honestly, it could be worse - it could be next weekend-! Both boys seem to have rallied; they ate a good dinner and have been happily playing, so maybe, just maybe, this is a mild one...? Please?

And I could kill for some egg foo young. BO8RT is bringing me some even though he had Chinese for lunch and even though he's risking catching our lurgy. What a guy, huh?