What a lovely party. Thombeau had added one of those chat thingies to Fabulon and everyone huddled there at the agreed upon time and started whaling away on our keyboards. Very amusing, and just like a real party where no one can hear what anyone else is saying so the conversations tend to be disjointed and nonsensical, but without all that annoying “What?” and “huh?” rubbish.
And star studded? Darling, you just don’t know. Madonna. Stevie Nicks. April Ames. Sandra Bernhardt, too, although she was so loaded she kept signing on as sarospice. I know Cher wanted to come, but since her “computer” is actually an old Etch-a-Sketch that Chastity left behind when she made her break for it, it sort of didn’t work out.
The only problem was that I found a runaway houseboy in my bag when I got home.
Octavius Philanthus has begged us not to send him back, so what could I do, I had to grant him Refugee Booty status. The other houseboys are grumbling, of course, but I think it’s important that they learn to share, don’t you?