The 20th Annual HRC Greater Philadelphia Gala is being held on Saturday.
A friend is a table captain and invited W and I to sit with her.
We aren’t familiar with this event, so W googled it while we were laying in bed last weekend.
W: It’s at the Marriott. Tickets are $200 each.
Me: I don’t know. That’s a lot of money.
W: It is, but it’s in the budget. We can afford it.
Me: I’d go if Ellen Page was going to be there. Or maybe Jodie Foster.
W (still reading): It’s black tie optional.
Me: Or Shane. I’d go if Shane was going to be there.
W: You need to be there. You wrote a book.
Me: Book. Schmook.
W: Chad Griffin is going to be there.
Me: That’s not doing anything for me.
W: Kate Moennig is going to be there!
Me: Do you think I can touch Shane?
W: No. I don’t think that would be appropriate. You can shake her hand though.
Me: Do you think I can rub Shane, like for good luck?
W: No. Absolutely not. That’s creepy.
* * *
We declined my friend’s invitation. “I’ll kiss Shane for you,” she said. “I don’t want to kiss Shane. I want to be Shane,” I replied. W and I say we will go next year when we are power lesbians.
* * *
Who would you pay $200 to see at an event? Who makes you scream like a schoolgirl?