Yesterday Dave was helping the Other Dave move, so I was on pseudo-mommy duty all day. The kids were completely well behaved for me, and I got a massive amount of stuff done as a result. I did 6 loads of laundry, packed about 10 boxes, posted some stuff on Craigslist for sale (Oh how I need the money too... augh), bought my mom flowers and met her over at BJ's for her birthday lunch, and generally ran around like a chicken with my head cut off.
When Dave got home around 6 I was pretty much shell shocked and wanted to lie down and go into a sleep coma for about a week. Dave and the kids hung out til like 7:45 so no time for a nap before the Sexy Cheese and I were to tear up a dance floor at Lola's for Hive - the Gothy night we are so fond of.
There was no cover, which made the $7.50 I had to pay for ONE drink (yeah, it wasn't cheap booze but whatever) a little less painful. Got there and there were a bunch of the hippies from whatever patchouli laced show upstairs at the crystal were hanging out. We knew within 1/2 hour of pounding industrial music that they would bail, and we were right. The bad news is the best music was played during the first 1/2 hour, and I always have to acclimate to the club before I can just get a groove on. Unless I'm drinking heavily, which in that case means I pound two vodka granades and its on. That wasn't happening, so yeah...
First amusing scenario: remember the guys that wanted me to join their band that sounded like Lydia Lunch? Yeah... they were there. Brie was drunk the night this happened and she was amused to finally figure out who that was, since that happened back in like, July and she wasn't sure.
Second amusing scenario: Gothic Bellydancers. This was the most boring, pathetic waste of 1/2 hour I'd ever seen. You would think Gothic Bellydancing would be cool. But I'm sorry - seeing a chubby chick with green hair dry fuck another chick with 47 tattoos to really slow, make you want to slit your wrists goth music just wasn't entertaining. It was like a really really bad soft porno, and I wasn't beyond vocalizing this either. Hahahah.
Third amusing scenario: I'm sitting over at our table, minding my own business, between dancing spurts. Brie is still out getting her groove on. I'm enjoying being lost in the music. Suddenly, the chair next to me is pulled closer with a sloppy screech.
I look over, "Hi, I'm Todd from Hillsboro. What's your story?"
"What do you mean, what's my story?" I narrow my eyes at him, annoyed already at the drunken brazenness of this dude. He REEKS of beer.
"Well you know..."
"That's a vague question."
"Well, yeah, you get to know people more by asking those kinds of questions," he says.
"Maybe you just can't think of any interesting questions. Excuse me."
So I go out, back to the dance floor for a few songs. I check out the table from the floor, its clear. Excellent. I go back. Within seconds he's back sitting next to me.
"You know, I had to have seven beers before I could come talk to you tonight," he says. "You're a really good dancer." He's slurring his words. I believe him on the seven beers, but not on the liquid courage part. He's straightlaced, probably intellectual when he's not plastered. He's one of those looking for a little taste of the wild side, which I wouldn't play any part of if I wasn't involved with someone. You can smell these ones a mile away. They treat you well but like a novelty. It gets real old real fast.
"Thanks," I say. He babbles more about psychology, and books I should read, and all this stuff, I'm trying not to be completely rude but he's getting the shortest answers possible from me.
Brie blessedly comes over and says "You ready to go? We can go."
So I say "Bye" to Todd, put my sweater on. He grabs my arm as I start to walk away, and he says "Oh wait, can I have your phone number? I'd really like to take you out sometime."
I say "Thanks, but no - I don't think my boyfriend would like that. I'm seeing someone."
He lets go, and flashes two fingers and says "Peace," then proceeds to pound the rest of his beer.