And had to keep the good face going?
I was mortified last night. I shouldn't even write about this but... I can't help myself. It's too funny.
Tonight I was invited to an HRC event. Big fundraiser in Boston. I've been to a bunch of events- lousy food, lots of people, no big deal. Not tonight. I had a problem.
Jeanine and I met with some folks before the event in the bar and had a cocktail. The ice melting like mad, but I don't notice, I'm engrossed in conversation. I usually hold my glass... well... in my lap.
I stand up after the hour and oh my god. I had an enormous wet spot - where? My crotch. Great. I'm so embarrassed I can't see straight. I go to the ladies room- I'll take the pants off and blow dry them with the hand dryers.
ONLY THERE ARE NO HAND DRIERS. Just useless paper towels.
I'm mortified. I can't dry the enormous wet stain my cocktail glass has created. I look like I wet my pants. Or my water broke.
Ooops, I'm pregnant. must have sat on a bad toilet seat. my mother warned me... me and Sarah Palin. Or one of the Palin's.
I pace. I panic. I finally go out to Jeanine- she's alone- oh my god. I have to leave.
It's fine, she says.
IT'S NOT FINE I HAVE A HUGE WET SPOT.
No, really, it's fine.
We go upstairs.
I have an enormous wet spot and then I see Walter and Allan.
I didn't know it was black tie event. Allan, of course, is in a suit. Walter? black jeans and a shirt.
Fuck fuck fuck. I set them up. I didn't know but I should have.
I'm sitting there with my jacket buttoned- did I mention I've had my period for about three thousand weeks in a row and hot flashes and the idea of a jacket is beyond me let alone buttoned.
But there I am with a GIANT WET SPOT- now drying- and I have to have my jacket buttoned. Hot flashes. Get me a cocktail, sweet jesus. Did I mention this is for HRC?
Finally, Walter, Jeanine, Allan and I circle. We all ridicule Jeanine's decision to bid on the most god awful ugly lamps. Fair play- Jeanine then points out my need for Depends. We ponder an instant auction item of Depends.
My pants are nearly dry by now. I still want to die.
I hate these events. But if I seemed exceptionally off? MY FUCKING PANTS WERE WET. I should have listened when my mother tried to teach me how to sit like a lady.
And I ended up with the ugliest lamps in the history of man. Oh, don't worry. When we get them? I'll upload some pictures.