336. Being Hoity Toity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

I’m going to hear the Philharmonic tonight with David. He has a season ticket.

It’s not usually my thing but I was asked so nicely that I had no choice but to accept.

“I asked everyone I knew if they wanted to go and they all said no so how about you coming ?”.

He added that Marshall (his son) refused by making a jerking off motion in the air.  I think he also said something about calling his high school shop teacher but when he finally found him it turns out the guy was dead.

I was tremendously flattered that he asked me before asking the doorman.

“I’d be charmed”,  I said.

What to wear? What to wear? I’m thinking a gown and some sort of tiara. I kind of wish that I still smoked. This sort of evening screams long cigarette holder.

There’s also the problem about dinner.  The thing starts at  8 pm.

Mr La Di Da says my usual dinner time of 6 is too early to eat which means we’ll have to eat after the concert. This is probably just as well because as soon as I finish dinner, especially with cocktails it’s off to dreamland.

Unless I bring my sleeping machine with me, which is not out of the realm of possibility, my snoring might disturb others if I happen to doze off.

The problem with eating later is that if I’m hungry all I’ll be thinking about is food and I won’t be able to enjoy the music. I once dated a guy who said that the only time he felt that he had my full attention was when I was actually eating. He thought that during the cold war I’d have sold my country’s secrets for a Hershey bar. He wasn’t wrong.


I got it!  Salami sandwich under my tiara. If there’s no encore that should hold me.


Remember what I said about being a problem solver?

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