What. A. Night. :)
I picked up my dress and some chocolate milk (excellent tub-thumbing technique: coats the stomach!), rushed home, showered, exfoliated, moisturized, perfumed, eyelashed, glossed, tousled, glittered...and then left for erstwhile-intern-and-forever-adored Samir's "Hot Jazz, Cold Champagne"-event, for Children's Hospital, where I had a martini while listening to SMer ylrsings belt out some choons. Lovely, yes? But it got even BETTER.
That event was over at midnight, so I ended up at Blue Gin for the first time since it opened in '04. Obviously it isn't one of my favorite places, as evidenced by my four year absence from it, but on Saturday night, it was SO MUCH FUN. Either that, or seven shots of Goose and Stoli make shitty clubs worth such capitalized proclamations of happiness.
It feels like it has been forever since I did nothing but dance for two or three hours straight, reluctantly agreeing to leave, only to rush out because, "OMG! They're playing TRIBE!!! We have to dance to this! THEN we can go!". I forgot how much I love doing that-- and I remembered why I used to, three nights a week. Dancing. Love it.
I'm amazed; that used to be a total pre-req for dating-- how could I be with someone who didn't dance? I don't think I'm being unreasonable, either. Guys protest that they lack moves, but I love dancing to hip-hop more than anything else, so seriously, is it that difficult to fucking stand there while some girl backs that thing up or dry-humps your thigh? Why is it so difficult to find a human thigh-master? WHY?
Anyway, I realized that after going to see my faaaavorite DJ ever, System F/Ferry Corsten in, oh, 2004, I haven't really danced all night, which makes me sad, because that's what I always did in SF (1996-1999, 2003), NY (2002) and DC (1999-2002...the first time). In the last four years, I was in relationships with two people who didn't really go out, or if they did (i.e., the former), it was to bars with live bands (the latter was rarely and then finally, never around...that's the LAST long distance relationship this penne will ever be in, y'all. Ugh.).
Cover bands at the ballroom are nice too, especially if they know what they are doing, but I'd much rather be bouncing around happily to the original version of vs. shouting the lyrics to "Hey Ya", you know? ;) Bars are not really my scene, like beer isn't my poison o' choice. And you know what? Ain't no shame in my motherfucking game. I'm a Eurotrash girl, and on Saturday, I felt more like myself than I have in years*-- and that was the greatest part of it all.**
* This could be a delusion brought on by eleven shots of wodka.
**The Mozzarella sticks I
noshed on was lovingly hand-fed when I got home were a close second, I will totes admit that.