Straight, No Chaser

You know, there are only so many shots of tequila a girl can do before she's dancing, by herself, in the midst of a wide open empty floor, to booty music interludes between the emo wristcutting renditions of karaoke Chili Peppers. And apparently, that many for me is somewhere between two and seven.

I was informed the next day that my three hours spent dancing while leaving my decidedly Segzy but entirely un Byachlike designated driver to people watch and field questions from a brigade of my friends by himself, was stupid looking. A lone girl grooving by herself with every ounce of her never getting out soul looks strange when any other people who may decide to grace the dance floor are doing so in the one-two manner of rhythmless white folks everywhere. I'll take it as a compliment, honestly. I may have looked stupid but it is relative stupidity. I looked stupid only because I was rocking out, and everyone else was Rockaway. The sheer awesome of my flailing eclipsed the bored back and forth of everyone else. But I was probably too inebriated to notice at the time, anyways.

Other things I failed to notice on this particular night of debauchery include knives being pulled, a la West Side Story, my Freddie Krueger hat being pinched by no fewer than three people and the car window and STILL managing to make it home with me, that four inch stilettos and fourteen tequila shots are probably not the best mix for ambulation, and that my bartender failed to charge me for god knows how many drinks. Bless her bleach blonde heart.

See, this is what happens when you don't get out much. The buzz which occurs completely blinds you to things that totally warrant attention, as outlined above. MAN! I missed it all, but did I? No, I really didn't miss it. I don't miss it. I was doing one of the things that I count highest among my hobbies, which also included a hip hop rumba thing with an excellent and incredibly gay man. (Gay men are my favorite dance partners. I have no qualms whatsoever about getting down when being led by a skilled homo.) At any rate, how can you miss something you never were aware of? Like Scout Finch, who only missed reading when the right was removed from her, how can you miss breathing? You just do it. How do you miss amazing Brews of Our Lives drama unfold when you're busy being enveloped in your own universe of musculature manifestations?

That being said, gratuitous apologies to my DD for ignoring him, to my friends for having to purloin me from empty dance floors in order to garner my support for their own karaoke needs, and to the people who were utterly pwn'd in their attempts to dance by my fantastically fantastic interpretive art.

LOVE YOU BYACHES! <3