Dave is a man of mystery. How does he travel? Who does he work for? Who are his friends? What is his orientation? Where is he at any one time? If you've read his blog, you know none of these things. I know the answers. I'm not telling, because I respect people who have self-control and restraint in their self-expression. Unlike me. The Wife of Bath.
Dave showed up with lanyards and playing cards and buttons, but not enough buttons, prompting the plaintive "I want a Penis Salad too!" -- only not from me, and how I managed to miss making that that particular age-and-otherwise inappropriate comment I do not know. I did laugh lustily, though.
The venue was Blueberry Hill ...
... and people were lined up to see an Elvis impersonator. Or, possibly, a random Elvis impersonator was there and they lined up to see Katy Perry.
The only person you can't see in the photo above is Carlos, my drag-racing buddy, but here he is in front of the satyr.
Our guest of honor, Dave, said "Mini Bundt Cakes. MINI BUNDT CAKES. Who's with me!"
"Ted Drewes," we said. "Oh, and make some Gooey Butter Cake when you get back home."
Ted Drewes was surreal. At one point, an elderly woman went down. She lay on the ground until the ambulance came. But, she recovered, walked it off and was able to get up on the gurney with assistance. This, of course, meant we were free to make sick jokes.
We were able to see our city through Dave's eyes, and I was able to join in the conversation by starting every comment with "About twenty years or so ago..."
It was a lovely evening, overall. Thank you, Dave and Ajooja.