I would love to see a Buffista outing to Graceland! I wonder if I can get a white sequinned jumpsuit/kilt.

Bwahahahaha...

t stops, considers

Actually, I bet you could carry it off.

Would we be the most blandly dressed people there?

There's all kinds in Memphis. Though when I last toured Graceland, I didn't see one Elvis impersonator.

Okay, if we end up in Memphis I know what I need to get for one of my Prom outfits.

Uh huh. Make sure you also get the scarf to toss to all of the swooning women at your feet.

I don't even want to think about why you had that link so handy.

I'm quick with the Google. Search terms are my specialty. Besides, I now know firsthand how delicious the men can look in a kilt...

No hard feelings from me for anyone not big on Denver. Lord knows that it took me three times of moving back and forth from California before I finally fell in love with it.

Oh. My cubicle roommate says Austin is gorgeous and my sister lives close to Memphis. Would be just as happy with either of these.

cereal:

The monthly averages for Memphis in May are 80 for the high and 61 for the low. If I'm not mistaken, the humidity isn't as bad as DC.

t blush

And may I point out - in regard to crime - that DC isn't exactly considered safe by most people.

hey! nobody got killed! or even molested. Unless you count being molested by the Buffistas.

I even wore a kilt on the Subway with no problems.

Continued for Hec. The rest of you can scroll by.

As we were leaving Vortex's apartment at dusk, Deb noticed fireflies, a little east coast treat. En route to the hotel, Deb phoned Nic and taunted that she had laced Vortex into her corset and because he wasn't here, he'd missed it. A word about Ms. Vortex and her amazing car. The rear AC vents were a godsend in combating the heat (second only to the occilating vents in the Bicyclopsmobile!). We never had the chance, nor the need, for backseat smugglage of an additional body, but it is a nifty, zippy, and very comfortable car, piloted expertly by Vortex, at all times an elegant and benificent personage, who even swears elegantly. When cut off in traffic, her comment was a carefully modulated and enunciated, "You piece. of. shit."

Back at the ranch, Vortex and Deb went to Kristin's room for Kristin to dress and for Deb to lace Vortex into her corset, while Ginger and I went to her room to dress. Ginger accepted one of the extra tiaras I'd brought, and I grabbed makeup and my tiara and we scooted up to meet the others in Kristin's room. Finishing touches were applied, all the wraps I'd brought for color were vetoed, and jewelry was selected. I slapped on some makeup and Vortex volunteered to set my tiara in place.

Folks, I'm 5'3," and roughly shoulder-height to Vortex. IJS. If Nic would have plotzed at the lacing, he would have plotzed again being that close to the front of that corset and that glorious, amazing bosom. I think my Kinsey may be a tad skewed, now.

All dolled up, we headed for the elevator. There was a sole, singular, defenseless man caught unawares by our collective gorgeousness when the doors opened. He didn't seem able to make eye contact, but ducked out of the elevator as we got on. Then he apparently realized he was on the wrong floor and ducked back in. "If you're going anywhere but the penthouse, tell us and we'll let you off on the way," someone said. "If you're good," I murmured. I'm not sure he heard me.

Let me interject a request at this juncture. It was bad enough that we were scattered hither and yon over different floors, but to have the elevator stop a floor below the penthouse was a pain in the butt. Or rather, in the joints involved in climbing the frelling stairs every time one left or returned to the hospitality suite. Several of the Buffistas are physically challenged, and I'd like to ask that any of us be able to come and go without difficulty, whatever our next venue.

I have to run to a meeting, so the Prom report will have to wait.

I even wore a kilt on the Subway with no problems.

Tell that to the scarred Baptists.

Trudy, you say that like it's a bad thing.