Always On a Friday

The entire internet crashed at the office, and I wasn't even there to see it go down in flames. I was engaged in a life-or-death struggle with the pool robot, Rosie, who was choked up with leaves from the idiot gardeners who believe that every cut grass needs to learn to swim. KiKi's casserole was in the oven, Ditmar had just stopped by--chuck-full of pills from his doctor--and I was dreaming of a sort of Valley of The Dolls afternoon with cocktails, when the phone rang. "The internet is down."

"This is how you reboot the internet" went nowhere, so I set Rosie back to work with just a warning and climbed out of the pool (it was then that I noticed the blinds on the next home move; those Russians are spying on me again). No amount of computer hocus pocus would find the server and Bell South--after an entertaining two hours of chat that would have made so much more sense with a glass of gin in my hand--could only promise a technician in the morning. Unfortunately, modern credit card transactions are transmitted over the internet and the day was coming down like a stack of cards.

Six hours without the internet and I arrived home lost, vulnerable, and afraid. No news, no weather, no emails, no--well..... I'm always afraid I missed something in the emails, something more than the latest Lahoma van Zandt puppet show story or how I can get five Viagra for the price of one, and today I did. Ryan Field of Best Gay Blogs sent a message saying he had reviewed my blog and was posting it. I never--to this day--know why anyone not acquainted with me would read Mrs. Astor as it's just ramblings, but Ryan was so sweet in his review that I was truly humbled (and I hope it means I get Alex under me again--no, no; just kidding).

And just in case you THINK you won't see half naked boys here, well, those who ARE acquainted with me know that's just a matter of discretion, isn't it.