ConSynPro

021408 - The Valentine’s Day season has been great, and life is one fun day after the next, with almost no real responsibilities to speak of. On Valentine’s Day itself, I woke up in Tiburon in the MKs’ maroon guest and TV room. I was unable to get on the Internet; this has been difficult lately, as the wi-fi connects are pass protected, requiring authorization. This makes me think I’ll need to do a real commute to telecommute - that is, walk to the library or some other place with free wireless and work for an unbroken span. Self-moderation is dangerous to let slide. That very thread carried over into the evening, as JG and I rallied for the DMF party in San Francisco. The event occurred in a beautiful venue, once an old speakeasy, which included a useable slide to transport patrons from street level down to the posh lower level bar. I bought some shockingly expensive drinks down there, but soon after speaking with my friend SE the DJ, I had some other drink tickets to use and distribute. After making several laps between the silver plates full of chocolates, I noticed the place starting to fill up with people dressed to kill, with blouses pulled open to give Cupid a clear shot on his favorite night. Whoa! Still this didn’t prepare me for the burlesque stage show and the spotaneous encouragement of tribe sexy at hand. These folks had a good time down there, and the place soon filled packed full of swilling singles. While watching pedestrian feet shuffle past on street level through tinted windows, I grinned and thought, ‘If this is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.’