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Sunday, July 15, 2012

"Oh, What A Night!"

Tomorrow is my last official day of vacation. I have been off work for 10 GLORIOUS days. I will be paying for it when I get back to work. If I can even see my desk under the piles of work waiting for me it will be a miracle.

Last night, several exclamation points ended my long span of vacation. In one word: RandomCraziness. Okay, that was two words mushed together, but we can just pretend it's a Twitter hashtag, right?

We had some friends in town, and we all decided to head out and enjoy an evening rocking out to awesome music. You guessed it. Captain May I was playing this weekend, and these nights always involve some sort of chaos and usually a blog post to follow. Captain Mayhem? Totally a mascot idea. I see a cape. And Macaulay Culkin. I digress. 

Soon after arriving, we are minding our own business grooving on the dance floor, and in walks (struts) a group of the most well dressed men that I have ever laid eyes on in real life. As a friend of mine put it, they were definitely of  a "southern flavor". Meaning they had green cards that the bouncer later said he wasn't entirely sure how to check...

A couple of them glide onto the dance floor and pull out moves this piece of crap bar has never seen before. You have to realize, if you do not know me, I live in a VERY small town. We don't have clubs or fancy schmancy hipster bars. We have a handful of dive bars that actually play live music. They usually smell, and the toilets are crooked. Ceiling tiles are missing and moldy. Patrons may or may not have all of their teeth. This is not a place where the Tango is performed on regular basis...

One of these dudes shoes alone probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. I'm dead serious. The air was overly saturated with expensive cologne...putting my sweaty Bath and Body Works fragrance to shame. One of these things is not like the other.

The dance floor is then surrounded by the rest of their group cheering their hip swinging, flamboyant, ascot wearing friends on. I suddenly feel like I am on "So You Think You Can Dance?" My answer to that? No. No I can not.  

One of them grabs my hand and tries to pull out some "Dancing With The Stars" crap on me. Listen "Pretty Man", I am the chick that falls UP the stairs on a regular basis. This whole trying to dance with me ain't gonna work. I let him spin me a couple times and off I scurry to watch the rest of the show they were putting on. I am more comfortable dancing with drunk old dude in the beer shirt pulling out the sweet uncoordinated robotic moves. He belongs in this bar.

Oh well. I got a tacky beer cap necklace out of the deal as a memento and a night I will never forget.

They left almost as soon as they arrived. Poof! Leaving the rest of us to utter the phrase, "WTF was that??"

Another highlight of the night on a more personal level, was my hubby danced. He says only to one song, but it was two. I was the sober one, I think I would remember. No, we didn't dance to a romantic slow jam (snark). We rocked out to some Toadies and Weezer covers. But it's a start. I didn't dance as much as I usually do...it was 180 degrees in the place and when I am hot I turn as red as a tomato. An attractive tomato. Eye roll. After wiping a gallon of sweat off of my head I decided it was time to sit a few songs out and guzzle a pitcher or two of water. I'm not talking about a few beads of sweat that could be interpreted as sexy on a woman on a dance floor. I'm talking about a wet head sweat. Yuck. Wet head. Red face. T-shirt sleeves rolled up on the shoulders.  Good grief. I'm surprised no one asked me if I was going to make it. I'm fair skinned...I can't help the fire engine look. I'm cursed. 

Last night resulted in my small town frame of mind being completely blown away. Perhaps I need to get out more...but to be honest I am terrified of what else might be lurking out there.

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