International Player

When Nicole called and left me a message that Friday was the best night for her to go out, I was little surprised. Normally we did the whole Saturday night at our usual spot. This favorite club of ours wasn’t exactly what I would call, “The Spot” on Fridays. So I decided that we should venture to a different place for our House music fix.
Everything that night was not going as it was originally planned. Some of that turned out for the better, some for not the better. A guy who had worked for us during the summer was back in town and a bunch of us were supposed to go to dinner to hang out with him. I suggested the Irish Pub my boss is a frequent client at because the food there was awesome as well as allowed minors in before a certain time. As we headed out right after work, my boss mentioned that the guy we were going to dinner for in the first place, wasn’t going to be able to make it. Of course we went anyway, and drank in front of the two minors that we brought with us. That was almost strange, and probably somewhat torturous for the two that weren’t legally the age to drink.
As I predicted, dinner and such was over too soon and I felt stupid since I had agreed to meet Nicole there at nine-thirty that night. When my boss and one other person left, he gave me and the other guy quarters so that we could hang out playing pool in order to kill some time. As luck would have it, the only open table to play pool on was broken and my co-worker didn’t seemed thrilled about playing with five balls and the cue ball. So there went that idea.
Nicole and I met up finally and I ended up being the one to drive. Which at the time was kind of funny because I was still pretty toasty from the drinks I'd had with my meal. By the time she and I headed out I was fine, and I almost glad that I was done drinking for the evening. I just wasn’t in the mood to get any farther than what I had already achieved at dinner: nicely warmed and outwardly funny.
Parking paid for, we headed for the club at closer to eleven than I had really intended. The cover jumped up at that particular time and this whole evening was already technically beyond my financial boundaries. It had been pouring all day and the thought of waiting in line in the rain didn’t really appeal much either, but the Gods were merciful as the raindrops held during our stand in the slow moving line. By the time we made it to the door where the bouncer was checking ID’s the rain did return, sprinkling on the rest of the poor souls.
ID’s checked, the wait was then for the cashier. One of the female bouncers outside told me she really liked my hat. “But if you just rocked it to the side, you’d be off the hook.” I turned the hat for her, and she gave me the thumbs up. I shook my head and told her that I didn’t wear it like that because everyone else did. She only smiled at me. “That doesn’t matter. You look bad ass like that. That’s what matters.” After an unexpected compliment like that, I had to take the whole thing back under consideration.
The first girl I ran into with her hat turned and my hat went right back to the way I like it. There’s just something I can’t stand about doing the “trendy thing”. Silly things like purses, hairstyles, and articles of clothing can grab my attention, but if I see that everyone else has jumped on the same bandwagon I want nothing to do with it. I’ve really strived to surround myself with things that truly reflect my personality and my own sense of style. It’s taken me this long to figure out who I am, I’m not going to bury it under a bunch of over commercialized bullshit only to come out another cog in the clock. That’s just not the way I do things. That’s not to say I don’t own things that are popular at the time, my hat being a major case in point. This is then a situation of being true to myself. I love that hat because of how it looks on me and I wear it the way I want.
Nicole and I both checked our coats, which was nice because I didn’t have to have a ton of things in my pockets for once. Normally I check my coat and stash even Nicole’s stuff in my pockets, which leads to having unsightly bulges. Besides making life interesting for the guy you’re grinding on with two sets of car keys in your front pocket, there’s just something not right about seeming “happy” to see the other person when you’re a girl.
We took a quick walk through the place to find a bathroom, and check the scene as well. It was early yet, and even with the line to get in the door there really wasn’t that many people inside. The first place that everyone went was the bar anyway. A club with a split personality, first section played House and the second floor that looked down on the “Saturday Night Fever” dance floor had it’s own DJ spinning House as well. The majority of the second floor is all VIP. The other half of the club had Hip-hop and rap playing all night, and had taken up the majority of the population as well. Even with the quick walk through from the door to the bathroom and back downstairs, the people that were hanging about on our side of the club had a lot of promise. There were certainly a lot of guy groups that had a lack of girlfriend looking types. It’s not about finding a one-night-stand or about hooking up for the future. All I’m ever looking for is to meet someone who I can have some fun with for a little while. I’ve made a lot of interesting friends in the long term because of this outlook. For that I frown when friends say a girl can only meet losers at clubs. Depends on what she’s looking for when she meets people.
Downstairs staring over the dance floor, I was busy bitching to Nicole about the big and curvy Go-go Dancers that they had apparently installed since the last time I had been at that particular club. Being female and one of the few to be the first on the floor dancing, the last thing I want to see is some busty girl falling out of her Victoria Secret bra and stilting around on huge platform boots. This may be jealousy or it could be sheer feminine annoyance. Either way it just leads me to bitching at my poor friend with a combination of both feelings.
Nicole, who probably was hoping to shut me up, headed to the bar to buy some drinks. The dance floor was empty and everyone in the place was basically hitting up the bar first thing. Nicole had just gotten good news from work that morning and wanted to celebrate the fact that she would be going back to her beloved Germany come the New Year. I even opted out on the hard liquor. I just wanted a Mike’s Hard Lemonade and that was good enough. Some guy that had stood in line behind us tried to strike up a conversation, but neither of us really felt like putting in the effort to chat with him. Standing in line with a person doesn’t suddenly make you closer to them.
Taking our drinks back with us to the dance floor it was an odd sort of observation as we talked for a moment about life and watched the Go-go dancers. As Go-go dancers go, they were typical and nothing spectacular. I will never be one because of the way I dance. I have to remind myself that, all of that doesn’t make me a bad dancer, but it just makes me unique. If I’m ever to find employment, I will have to look for a club that is looking for what I have to give. One of the girls I recognized from the casino when I had auditioned so long ago. She apparently remembered me because she turned to wave as we stood sipping our drinks. I knew it was the hat that had probably jogged her memory. I also then pondered if I would lead a completely separate life if I took the hat off; like Superman and Clark Kent with his glasses.
As the DJ’s switched out and the club continued to fill up with people, Nicole and I did what we always do best: dance. I remember appreciating the fact that it had been quite some time since she and I had last gone out and this time things seemed to be working more our way. I am always glad for Nicole’s friendship and that she understands both my passion for House music and for dancing. As much as I like going out alone for the all the good things independence can give me, there’s still something better about being able to share a situation with someone who understands.
The House scene has always felt like some sort of underground movement from when I first turned twenty-one. The whole industry is becoming a lot more main stream as time goes by and that both encourages me and makes me wonder. The same people that I see when I go out on Tuesday nights, I was noticing as a part of the DJ crew here on a Friday night. I’ve always been excited about the fact that I was a regular in this scene enough to know and to be recognized by the people I consider to be regulars. Yet as I looked around at those same people, I began to wonder if those people ever listened to other types of music. Did these people go to other types of clubs? What was it about this scene that got people to come out? I know deep down that I have a passion for the music and I love dancing. The music moves me yet whatever that music is, I’ll dance to it. What was it for these people? Was it narrow minded to be such a regular?
Nicole started dancing with this guy that seemed determined to break all her rules and boundaries. She has this amazing look of pure “help me” that always strikes a bit of worry in me every time. I’ve never had a problem rescuing her; I’m just not shy about dancing my way around the situation and walking away with her in the process. On the dance floor I’m confident. If this was a bar situation and she needed my assistance, I fear I’d be pretty useless. Yet even though she and I stopped to talk several times about how things were going for her with the guy, or I pulled her way to dance with me on a different part of the floor, she still managed to end up back where she was. At the time I wasn’t sure if I was losing my touch or if she was still really unsure as to whether she wanted to be rescued.
Walking away on her own, she and I ventured over to the Hip-hop side for the heck of it. There were a lot of good things to look at but the whole atmosphere was different. Only ten steps away from where I had been dancing, this side reminded me of that weird gritty, aggressive scene that I had gotten to know so well when I started clubbing right after college. I hate to link it to the music, but rap doesn’t exactly send the message of sweet-talking a woman to get what you want. Nicole surprised me by wanting to stay on that side and dance for a bit. Normally I was the one settling for the hip-hop while she yearned for loftier things.
The guy we ended up dancing with was the same one I had gotten so angry with at my Thursday night spot for slapping and hitting me. A very good dancer, he’s just an out there sort of guy that seems to get so fired up about the music and the situation. Egging me on I started trying to show off for the guy, and then he ended up dancing with Nicole. By then I came back to my senses and wondered what the heck I was doing. Why was I on this side of the club when an awesome DJ was spinning House on the other side?
Back on the “Saturday Night Fever” dance floor I felt a better sense of belonging. There’s something about the atmosphere that House creates, but that is also dependent on the people that are making up the crowd. Those that listen to House are usually more dependent on their love for the music and the joy of dancing to it. Those that listen to Hip-hop seem to be more intent on hooking up and being a “playa pimp”. Looking over the crowd again I noticed this guy that had been dancing as consistently as Nicole and I had been. As I came and went, when ever I returned this guy would give me some sort of sign that he saw me. The first few times I found it a little strange since every time I made eye contact with the guy, he had a different pretty girl he was dancing with. I calmed down when I rationalized that he just was another enthusiast like me. It was like two motorcycle riders waving to each other as they pass.
Another guy caught my attention because of his height and the fact that he was attractive. He was talking to one of the Go-go dancers as she got off her platform and his friends seemed to hovering a little closer that most normal situations would entail. As I watched him move through the crowd toward me, I remember thinking that he must be a little drunk, and was probably trying to hook up with the dancer. Oddly enough he stopped right in front of me as I stood alone, and announced that he would dance with me.
We ended up talking quite a bit, definitely more that I was use to when in a loud club. It was also really apparent that he, James or Big James as he decided to share with me, was drunk since the conversation became quite circular. He asked my name several times, where I worked, things like that and would forget the answer not a minute later. There was a boyish quality about him that really appealed to me, since most guys become totally testosterone driven with the influence of alcohol. I remember thinking that he would probably be an interesting person once sober.
Nicole and I headed for the bathroom again and as we came down the stairs a guy came over to me randomly and tried starting a conversation. I’m not sure what it was about it that bothered me. The opening line was sort of cheesy, “Hey so pretty and all alone.” I took his hand when he offered it, but when he asked me to stop and talk to him for a minute I just turned and walked away. There was just something about it that made me roll my eyes and want nothing to do with the person. I was looking to see where James had gone and didn’t give the guy another thought. It was a moment before I noticed that Nicole wasn’t behind me but had stayed to chat with the guy.
I felt like a bitch suddenly, but then again I’ve never been one to falsely encourage a guy. If his line is terrible don’t stand there and encourage him like it was a great opener. He’s only going to use it on other girls later. The same with brave guys who try to bully their way into dancing with girls. Most of them get their way because girls are too shy to shove a guy off. The same rules apply. Don’t encourage his behavior, he’s only going to think that is the way to treat girls on the dance floor and do the same annoying ass thing next weekend to some other poor unsuspecting girl. Along with my soapbox about getting more men to dance and be confident about it, I’m also huge on trying to get guys to realize that clubbing is not an excuse to be a jerk. I have no delusions that I will find the man of my dreams or even my next “Mister Right-Now”, which just makes me the girl for that night. Whatever behavior works for him this time, he’ll fall back on the next time he goes out. Keep that in mind the next time you go out.
James and I danced and talked for a moment more, but his large group of friends headed out and he went with them. Nicole was still enjoying the company of the guy I had completely blown off and I felt too awkward to go over there and talk to her because of it. Again I was facing the interesting guy that kept catching my eye, and flagging down my attention. Even though he had this drunken girl rubbing her self all over him, he still reached out to meet my hand as a sign of recognition. It was the oddest sense of understanding someone completely by the look in his eye. He seemed to be glad that I got rid of the other guy and that I was on the floor giving my self back up to the music. Getting that vibe from him was almost funny since he appeared to be like every other guy; doing his little two-step and never without a friendly partner.
Trying not to think too deeply about the situation I did indeed go back to my happy place. The DJ that night was throwing out some amazing stuff. At one point I was stopping to rest and raise my hand in the air in a sort of DJ prop. A guy that I had seen plenty that night dancing with his friends tapped my shoulder suddenly. “I like that you wear your hat straight.” This was a great compliment and solved the whole inner conflict that the female bouncer had raised at the beginning of the night. Stay true to yourself and you can never go wrong.
Nicole and her guy were definitely hitting it off and I was happy for her. I still felt weird about the whole thing, but what did it really matter? I blew him off and he met someone who did find him interesting. That was the important part and I really needed to get over myself. I also really needed to figure out what the heck was going on with the man of mystery. Dancing in front of him again, it was odd to watch the funny little shift he did from his current partner to dancing with me. It was the smoothest thing I’d ever seen, and I’m not sure the girl even noticed. With his eyes on me the whole time, he slowly handed the girl over to the guy that was dancing closest and then moved my way. She started rubbing herself all over the guy she was now dancing with and he was free and clear without any sort of issues.
We danced together for the rest of the night. I was so happy to have found someone who was sober, seemed to love the music as much as I do, and was starting to wear me out on the dance floor. I was the one that had to go sit down while he kept dancing and that blew my mind. Mystery man also totally respected my physical boundaries, he wasn’t trying to grind up on me or get all touchy-feely. During a rest break he asked my name and I could tell he had a thick accent. I finally got up the courage to ask where he was from. “Italy,” he replied and I was totally surprised. Looking at him now I could suddenly see the differences. This was no American guy, from the way he acted to the way he even dressed; this was someone who had not been raised in this country.
Nicole was excited about the whole idea of this mysterious Italian. It was still blowing my mind that this was truly some one from another country, not just someone who had distant relatives from Italy who came over through Ellis Island or something like that. We talked for several minutes more outside the club when we left for the night. The guy had an intriguing accent that made everything else about him so exotic. Spanish was the language I took in high school and college. I’ve been around Spanish speaking peoples the most, to include my boss who makes all his phone conversations in Spanish. Even though I know by all principles Spanish and Italian are very close, they are entirely separate languages. I just never realized how different until then.
At one point a tricked out little, back, two-door car came rolling by with some thuged up guy in a white wife-beater who started shouting rather explicit opinions on what kind of girls Nicole and I appeared to be and what he would do with us if we were. The Italian marched directly into the street after the guy with a look that meant someone was going to get hurt, and it was going to be the nasty little thug. The only thing I could think was that no American guy would ever give a shit about something like that. That’s not to say that they don’t completely care, it’s more of a situation that American guys are immune to it all now. Unless someone threatens his girl directly, then the rest is all white noise. There was something really traditional and flattering about having your honor defended in so simple a way.
It was a simple night and yet there was so much going on all at the same time. Either way I’m glad to say that I have branched out into improving relations with other countries. Mmm… real European House… Maybe I should have gotten a number!

This Girl and her Hat?

A very good friend of mine is an awesome song writer/performer and on the CD he gave me was this song. I’m not sure if its vanity but I’d like to think that it’s about me. Either way I just really wanted to take a moment to promote him and post the lyrics as well.

The Girl in the Hat

I was walking down the street tonight (yep, down the street)
The sun was going down, and it was so bright
It was so nice all day I had to go for a walk and I
I looked around, I looked around (I looked around)
She was no where to be found
And I know that I better not be looking now
I gotta take my shoes off gotta sit down gotta have a drink of coffee
Gotta have a drink of my coffee
I know, I know that she could love me (it's so expensive)
I let her let her love me, if I let her love
If I wouldn't tell you, I would be enough
If I couldn't tell you, look now
I can see her when I look now, I can see her when I look now

Look, at that, (look at that) God I wanna get some of that.
Come and say love, you so, I want the girl in the hat
Look, at that, God I gotta get some of that yeah
Let me say love, you so, (love me love me) cause I want the girl in the hat
Yeah

She wears a hat now, and she's wears a jacket (well that's not all) and, and, and
And I fell strictly in love with her, (who gives a shit what I want?)
Strictly in love with her now
Now now now
Now I'm sittin here all alone, because it's what I do best
It's what I best for now
She wears a jacket, she wears the shoes, and she goes to work
And all I can do is sit here and think, sit here and think
I don't wanna go now...oh don't you see me with you, love?
I don't want, I don't need it, I never did now...

Look, at that, man I gotta get some of that
Yeah let me say love, you so, I want the girl in the hat (yeah I gotta get me some of that...)
Look, at that, God I gotta get some of that yeah
Let me hear you love, you so, I want the girl in the hat
Yeah

Look, at that, (at that) God I gotta get me some of that
I could say love, you so, I want the girl in the hat

What I said and what I meant are two different things
Yeah well we all know that
I've been laying here with my eyeballs wide open, hoping
Hoping I could catch a glimpse, I could catch a glimpse
and oh God it doens't make any more sense but I'm going to tell you how it is now
I'm gonna tell you how it is now
I can think think real clear now, I can think real clear, now, yeah, well
She could love I know she could love me
If I let her love me, well hey look at that

Look, at that, God I gotta get me some of that
Yeah let me say love, you so, but I want the girl in the hat
Let me say love, you so, I want the girl in the hat
Let me hear you say love, you so, I gotta have the girl in the hat.

What A Prize

After several unsuccessful attempts at going out, the guys at work had started calling me Senior Center Queen due to the fact that I had fallen asleep each time rather than make it out to the club. This was frustrating the hell out of me, because it was honestly making me feel old as it was. The revamped nickname wasn’t helping at all.
Determination was about all that got me through that Thursday. Once again I was fighting the terribly comfy idea of just changing into my pajamas and going to bed for the night. I gave myself a stern talking to and headed out for the night. It was tough though. It had been a while since I had gone alone to this particular club, and that was undermining my determination. Once I had called all the support I could think of and ended up empty handed, I gave myself another stern talking to as I drove through the city toward my destination. I am not old. I haven’t gone dancing in forever. Who knew what the night held for me. Good stories always come out of any outing I march into alone.
Pulling into my usual parking lot, the only vehicles present were three large white trucks. These were sort of nondescript transportation that would hold equipment or some such for a larger scale performer. I remember pondering who might be in town or if the club I was going to be at that night was supposed to have something more than the usual. Being the sole occupants of this pay lot also made me worry as to where everyone else was, or if I wasn’t supposed to be parking there.
I didn’t notice the rather angry black guy until I stopped in the stall that I always seem to park in. He wasn’t dressed like a bum but he was gesturing wilding and practically shouting at no one in particular. I did my usual, ignore the person so they’ll go away trick, which wasn’t going to end up working for me. Taking the time to change into my boots and check my make-up, the guy continued to pace around by my car and yell. I was forced to deal with the guy when he finally came directly to my car and demanded I roll the window down. These are the moments I truly regret clubbing alone. Only cracking the window he proceeded to warn me that I couldn’t park there because “the guy” was going to come ticket me. I reassured him I planned on paying. He then gave me a rather loud lecture on the idea that I should find street parking because that was free. This went around several times as I assured him that I was just going to pay for my spot and everything was fine. All the while I wasn’t really sure what to make of this guy. Was he some crazy homeless person, an undercover spy for the pay lot, or just some overly concerned citizen with nothing better to do with his Thursday nights?
Acting all angry the man finally walked away and I finished stalling for time. Getting out of the car I sadly realized that he was heading toward the pay machine and yelling for me to come with him. “She’s gunna pay. She’s gunna pay. You such a big girl, com’mere and pay.” It was sort of strange that I wasn’t more bothered about the situation. All I remember feeling was slightly nervous, but seriously annoyed. I wanted the guy to just go away and let me get on with my night, but he was determined to show me how the machine worked. At one point I actually snapped at him that I knew what I was doing. This surprised him, and even though he stood right by me as I paid (and I wondered if it was so wise for me to flipping the contents of my pockets around in front of this guy) he wandered away muttering to himself as I headed back to my car with the ticket. I started muttering to myself after that as well. What a great way to start the night!
A stupid paranoid thought ran through my mind, which made me move my car to a spot right by the main street. My parents car had just been broken into right in front of the their apartment, what if this guy came back? It was the only freaking car in the lot besides those ominous blank white trucks. He’d just watched me show off my debit and credit cards, whose to say that he wouldn’t assume I had all sorts of nice things in my car since I was being so snobby about paying for the lot. As I got of out of my car and started toward the club, setting the alarm on my car several times for my own sanity, I started to feel bad that I had assumed that the guy would have to be some sort of thief just because he was acting all crazy. Better safe than sorry, but one shouldn’t be falling so easily into racial stereotyping.
The next surprise for me was that the barriers for directing the line were now set into a simple “v” shape which suggested that the club wasn’t expecting any sort of crowd that night. No massive amounts of people to direct in and out that door, so why have the line set up. Three bouncers stood around outside the door and were so involved in a “when to throw the guy out” discussion that the bouncer checking ID’s didn’t see me for several minutes. I was glad it was a warm night, but then I probably would have drawn attention to myself with my loud chattering of teeth had it been cold outside. I started to wonder if they were rehashing something that had happened moments before, or if this was just a tutorial for future reference. Listening in, I was sort of interested in what they all considered behavior that left a bouncer with no other alternative.
Sliding my ID back in my pocket after the bouncer did finally check it, I moved through the lobby quickly scanning for anyone I knew. The coat check girl seemed bored to death and even though I waved when she looked directly at me, there was no spark of recognition. That always leaves me feeling really silly. Why did I feel so self important at that moment that I would assume I could just walk in and wave at the woman? Moving on I headed straight for the music, wondering what sort of crowd I’d be dealing with that night.
It was still pretty sparse with only two little groups peppering the dance floor as I crossed it. The DJ I knew was spinning and I moved to one of the platforms to have a seat since I was a little insecure about just jumping in; the music wasn’t really moving me either. It was all hip-hop that night and it had been a while since I’d listened to that music or even danced to it. Looking around I saw banners for a popular local radio station known for its rap and hip-hop play list. This explained why the DJ was playing what I would consider a rougher selection of music than I had heard in a while. As frustrating as that was, I knew that he would play something sooner or later that would get me moving. I was far too determined to have a good time that night for anything to slow me down. If that meant sitting down till things got livelier then so be it.
I started watching two girls and two guys that were dancing in front of me. One of the guys kept grabbing one of the girls by the arm and dragging her over to dance with him. She’d stare at her friend as if in a cry for help and then proceed to freak all over the guy for a bit. She was an excellent dancer, and definitely had the sort of skills that would make any guy want to grab her and drag her his direction. I was just confused as to why she was sending such mixed signals. After a bit the girl would run back over to her friend and the two of them would do a little “girl on girl” action, which only led to the guy coming back to drag her away again. That always immediately annoys me. Why do girls feel the need to draw attention to them selves by dancing all nasty on their gal pals? Really it’s just a naughty circle. Guys love that sort of stuff and will totally pay attention to any girl that does it. Girls want to get some attention so she learns that the quickest way to do this is to dance all over her friend. BLECK!
A guy I know to be a regular at this club on Thursdays came and sat by me. We had danced together before but I neither found him attractive nor the style of dancer that meshed with me very well. He had always proven to be a soft-spoken person who did seem to have only the best intentions of gentleman. Asking to buy me a drink was followed by whether he could keep me company, which just led me to nodding and keeping my eyes out to the people dancing. I was already doing the escape route calculation, not that I needed to get away from him but so that I could walk away and do my own thing without it looking like a total rejection. My moment ironically came when a friend of his pulled him out to dance and I high tailed it to the bathroom because the choker I was wearing felt like it was in a serious knot.
All straightened out and my determination back to an all time high I returned to the dance floor. Pausing to see that more people had taken up residence on the floor, I moved to an empty spot and started to dance. I sort of love doing that: just sitting on the sidelines for a time, watching everyone else, and then suddenly reappear to jump right in the middle of things. As I danced I felt the parts of my back that had been tight and aching start to work them selves out, yet I still felt completely rusty. I didn’t feel like I was really moving as well as I usually did. Closing my eyes I continued with the pep talk in my head. No matter what I was there to enjoy dancing, not impress anyone.
As the night went on, I kept dancing and trying to ignore everyone else. Truth be told, I was still watching the crowd and feeling out of the loop. There were songs being played that I hadn’t heard, and since the radio station was hosting the night, I felt really terrible that I was closing my self so much to the new music that was always coming out. I love House but I love all kinds of music. I hated to think that I was being narrow-minded. I kept right on dancing making the best of what I could and trying to just listen. I also kept looking to the DJ to see what he was doing on his turntables, taking comfort in something I did understand. As much as I love watching DJ’s spin this club puts the DJ up a platform that reminds me of a birdcage suspended over a pool and fountain. You can’t really see him do anything, just bob his head.
Even with the songs that everyone seemed to know, the energy level was pretty low. There wasn’t any mingling really, just groups of people sticking to themselves. For some reason I spotted a couple guys that looked around them like they felt out of place. Girls were ignoring them, and they were taking repeated trips to the bar with no obvious intention of hitting the dance floor unless physically drug there. A part of me wanted to pull a “Jimmy” and go see if I could make a difference. The other part of me just wanted to be left alone and independent that night.
The MC that does his free style thing on Thursdays finally started his floorshow as it were, by trying to get some energy back in the crowd. This guy has talent, but by singing and talking over the music I usually just hate him by the end of the night. This MC has always just been one big distraction rather than an entertainer. Jumping up on to the platform that houses the speakers and is the focus for any girl who wants to strut her stuff above the crowd, the MC identified the radio station and then announced he had free stuff to give away that night. “For the first girl to jump up here and shake her thing I’ve got some free gifts to give away.” Normally I start toward the designated area and about fifty girls are already way ahead of me. Strangely on this particular night, no one moved. “Com’mon now ladies! I need just one of you to get up here and dance for me.” Again not a soul moves. By this time I’m totally excited and start marching through the crowd. As the MC pleads one more time for someone (any one) I hop up there and start doing my thing. The DJ gave me this funny look of “of course it would be you” and went back to his turntables. I didn’t put on much of a show before the MC came over and thanked me several times for helping him out. Suddenly I was a little deflated that it wasn’t my amazing style that he appreciated but the singular fact I was the only one brave enough. Taking my free stuff I jumped down again, deciding that I’d look stupid if I stayed up there after receiving my prize. I’d only seem like a show-off. Either way I was pretty stoked that I had won a bunch of free stuff from the radio station, and that I’d have proof for the boys at work that Clubbing Queen was back in the saddle again.
Moving through the crowd, after stashing my winnings under my coat in the corner of the room, it’s always gratifying to catch the eyes of people who had ignored you earlier. Putting yourself as the focal point, it’s like a chance to thumb your nose at them. I have the same talent up there as I do on the floor; they just take notice because I could do it in front of a full dance floor when no one else would.
I took to the sidelines to watch the rest of the mayhem as the MC continued to hand out stuff from the radio station with different tasks in order to receive it. After announcing that the next girl had to show a sexy tattoo to his friend that was standing next to him, several girls including Miss Mixed-Signals jumped up to rub her ass all over the MC. From the look on his face he was of course pleased. Yet as she continued and a couple friends jumped in I rolled my eyes. Women go on and on about being degraded and men treating them like objects. It’s behavior like that, that keeps men from thinking any different. What were they hoping to achieve? The MC was not with the radio station, nor would they really get any sort of recognition out of catching this guy’s attention. Who knew what these girls were thinking? The MC eventually shoved all the girls aside to get some breathing room and I had to laugh. It was like the movie “Night at the Roxbury”, where the two brothers bounce a girl back and forth between them like a human ping-pong ball, except this was the gender reverse. Too much of a good thing can be bad.
The rest of the night was still pretty low energy. I kept watching either the DJ or looking out toward the lobby for a familiar face. This guy at the bar kept staring me down and I was a little worried he would get the wrong impression. I was bored, not on the hunt. When the DJ’s switched places I felt hands on my arm as I was dancing. The grip was so familiar in nature that I basically expected to see my friend since he had given up the turntables to a guy from the radio station. The person who was grabbing me turned out to be the guy from the bar. With both hands on my lower arm he yanked me off the dance floor and closer to him. Asking my name he told me that we were going to have a glass of Champaign. I shook my head and moved back toward the dance floor. Again I was pulled back as he argued that it wasn’t far and that I was going to join him for a glass of Champaign. Now I was locked in a strange sort of tug-of-war. I would say no and he would pull me farther in the direction he wanted me to go. When he started trying to negotiate for where we would have that glass I started to honestly worry. There wasn’t a bouncer in sight and I had never been in a situation where I knew I was physically outgunned before. At last I got mad that he was manhandling me and trying to impress me with the type of alcohol he was drinking. I freed my arm from his death grip and said I hated Champaign and that I would rather keep dancing. Talk about confused. This guy was so surprised that his line hadn’t gotten him anywhere. UGGGH!
Feeling safer on the dance floor, I moved farther in but stood by watching for a bit. I was glad to see that the two guys I had spotted from earlier were out on the floor at last. The one guy seemed to be doing better at talking and dancing with girls. His wingman on the other hand just seemed more like a chaperone. Keeping to himself he danced alone with no wandering eyes for any female around him. I figured he was very happy in a relationship and was just out to keep an eye on his boy.
I did eventually get caught in the act of watching them. The Ladies Man was doing this silly dance and Wingman was laughing at him when he caught me laughing too. Wingman proceeded to become very embarrassed and quickly returned to his drink that was off to the side. I felt bad for embarrassing him, I was only enjoying the fact that the two of them were starting to loosen up. (Wingman was also cute) He finally walked up to me and said that his friend was funny but somewhat of a dork and that he’d caught me laughing at them. I could tell that Wingman had relaxed about the whole thing so I felt better, and was glad that I got to at least talk to the guy.
Wingman headed out to the lobby and the guy who was sitting behind me tapped my shoulder. After the last situation I turned with the attitude of being ready for a fight. The guy merely smiled at me. “You need to tell that guy to stop talking to you. He’s ruining your flow and I was over here watching you dance.” Pure flattery and a pick up line, but for some reason that shit always makes me all proud and happy. Moving back to the dance floor I put on a show for this guy. It was fun to have a reason to show off for a moment. When two girls started dancing on each other in front of the table, I wasn’t heart broken at all. I was happy to be back in the groove and having fun dancing.
Wingman returned with drinks for his boy and a glass of water for me. It was a terribly sweet gesture and I was really grateful for the water itself. Lover boy was all confused as to who I was and why his Wingman had gotten me a drink. I smiled mysteriously as Wingman tried to explain the situation. I found it ironic that earlier I had told a friend of mine that I never except drinks from guys, and if it’s water it has to be in an unopened container. I was breaking my own rules as I sucked down the water as fast as I could; yet after watching the body language of the two guys all night, I pretty much felt I would be okay.
I ran in to the two of them one last time as I headed out for the night. Stopping to say good night, they both seemed to be well on their way to hangovers in the morning but were still smiling and laughing. Having a good time is the point and I was happy that I shared a moment with them, even if it had been at the expense of Lover boy.
Out to my car, the nagging worry that something might have happened to it while I was away was relieved. Climbing in and starting the car, it was then that I took stock of the stuff the MC had handed me. A baseball hat, a white tank top, an invitation for two to wait in line for the sneak preview of the new Jet Li movie, and along with the usual bumper stickers there was an ad for the new Pepsi Lime; not bad, but nothing great. I was just really happy I had been the first one to get up on that platform, for once.
Driving home I was really happy with my night. I won some free stuff, I got complimented on my dancing by several guys, even if one of them had accosted me, and I managed to get a glass of water because I shared a funny moment with a cute guy and his friend. I was relaxed and the aches in my back were gone. All in all, a very successful night.

Crazy About This Song

Last summer I was looking through the massive amounts of MP3s that I have on my computer and was trying to make a CD that basically was a low-key hip-hop mood setter. A friend of mine had bought Javier’s CD on a whim and though we both really liked it, it was a two hit wonder. “Crazy” stood alone to me as the one song I really would go to that CD to listen to so I burned it straight on to my computer to make life easier. After adding “Crazy” to my CD project there isn’t a moment when I don’t burst out singing along to this song. It’s very soulful and totally what falling in love should be like.

Crazy
By Javier
Hmmmmmmmm... hey yea hey... hoooooowhooo... baby

Kind of like a summer's breeze,
you do exactly as you please,
drop a brother to his knees just for fun.
I think it was the first of May,
girl I can't forget the day,
right then and there I knew you were the one.
Do you think that possibly,
you could spend your life with me,
cuz girl this love is growing, and it's hotter than the sun.

[Chorus:]
I get a little bit crazy baby,
everytime you call my name
my heart beats a little bit faster,
after, you are in my arms again.
You try to fight it,
don't even try to hide it,
emotions falling down like the rain,
I can't find the words to explain it,
ain't it, crazy how i fall,
everytime you call my name.

It's kind of like a work of art,
you shot an arrow through my heart,
even though we're worlds apart I can't deny,
it feels like your apart
of me the finish and the start of me,
girl you are the heart of me,
and that's no lie,
did I mention that I love you so,
and I just want the world to know,
if I could you know I would write your name across the sky.

[Chorus]

Crazy, crazy...
Evertime that your close to me,
I lose control of my sanity,
everynight, everyday, every word and you say,
girl do you know you put a spell on me.

[Chorus]

Crazy,
Everytime you call my name,
I don't know what to do, I'm so in love with you.

Leader Of The Pack

People are always amazed by my semi-obsession with motorcycles. Down in the office at work, we split a display board into three parts and my section is filled with torn pictures from motorcycle brochures. I usually follow any sort of interaction with the statement that my father and I are in a race to see who gets one first. If that doesn’t raise a person’s eye brow then I hit them with the fact that my parents at one time were all for me getting a bike instead of a car when I was in college.
The whole of my childhood was filled with stories of when my parents rode. They always seemed to lament the fact that after moving back to Washington from where my Dad had been stationed in California, that the weather here wasn’t nice enough to ride or to even keep a bike just sitting in the driveway. In a way most of the stories seemed to end with, “we had a bike, but then we had you.”
That sort of bloomed into a total interest of my own. My first boyfriend gave me the taste of what riding passenger was like with a simply little circle of a parking lot. From there it was something I threw myself into. My father and I started going to the conventions and I tagged along to the shops. I started learning everything I could about drive trains and engine sizes. As a girl I was a bit clueless about cars, but when it came to motorcycles, that was where I knew what I was talking about.
My boyfriend in college had always wanted a bike and my enthusiasm clinched it for him. He signed us up for the certification course and figured this would be the best way to make the next step toward owning. The course turned out to be the best thing for him and a total disaster for me. After laying the bike down twice and being bullied by chauvinistic instructors, I made the walk of shame to the van in order to wait for the rest of the class to finish up for the day.
After that I didn’t want to see another bike. I wanted nothing to do with anything that had only two wheels and a motor. Yet two years later I went on a bike ride with a friend of mine and, even though I was scared to death for the majority of the ride, I was in love all over again.
Planning on a day that hadn’t looked too promising in the beginning, it turned into the most perfect cloudless day. Taking a ferry out to an island we rode for several hours through the woods and awesome winding roads. In the end I was sad to end the ride. The next ride was out to the valley and the falls, the weather was hot and perfect, and the world was a beautiful place.
It was almost a year to the month before we went out again. A lot of procrastination and weather kept either of us from getting together to even get the chance to ride. It is true, you never forget. Jumping on the back we rode off with the plan to head an hour north and look at the tulip fields I had never seen before.
Holding on for deal life as we flew down the interstate, I remember thinking how funny it was that riding is always portrayed as this sexy activity. The leather gear and the situation of riding double has always led me to making outrageously naughty comments about wanting to “hit it while riding on a bike.” The reality of it all is mostly unsexy and I found that funny suddenly.
Being the cold female that I am, I always have to bundle up. This includes long johns, two shirts, a fleece jacket, and a snowboarding jacket. The worst thing I have to battle against is the wind chill. The great thing about a snowboarding jacket is that it’s designed against the cold yes, but the added skirts and cuffs that cinch down to keep out the snow also keep out the wind as well. All of this is anything but sleek, leathery, and sexy. Besides that holding on to the driver for dear life leads to knocking helmets, upper and lower back pain, and the inability to really look around at the beautiful scenery. Hooh that just gets me all hot and bothered! The bottom line though is that I still love it. It’s the closest to being able to really fly.
This last ride was the first time I was comfortable enough to sit back and not cling on to my friend like I could fly off at any second. This led to an incredibly more comfortable ride and after the five hours we ended up being out for, I enjoyed a whole lot more scenery this last time as well. I was seriously disappointed when we pulled back into my friend’s driveway, yet all the stress and unhappiness I had been holding onto for the last several months just blew away. Everyone at work mentioned how much more relaxed I seemed as well. It was true I felt completely more content with life.
It’s so hard to think about your troubles being the center of your life when you're being overwhelmed by nature and sensation. It never ceases to amaze me how little we notice life pass us by while driving in a car. Everything is climate controlled and focused on comfort. You’re shut away from anything going on outside, even when you should be paying attention. Being on a bike is about being out with the world and although the freedom is also the unprotected reason for high mortality rates; you’re experiencing everything around you.
My motorcycle fever is back to an all time high, leaving me drooling and whining every time one roars by me. I lucked out on the fact that the ex-boyfriend who I took the motorcycle certification course just got a bike about two months ago. When we met for dinner he road his new bike down to come get me. Thinking it was to good to be true I ran to grab my helmet and leather jacket before he changed his mind.
This was the first time I had ridden with someone who was fairly new to riding, as well as on a sports bike. The dynamics are the same, yet entirely different. Riding passenger on this bike meant I sat a whole lot taller than the driver. This leads to me catching a whole lot more wind sheer as well as the problem of sliding forward and back with the motion of the bike. Every time he hit the brakes I would slide into the back of him.
This was also the first time I had jumped on a bike totally dressed down. I was wearing my leather jacket, which has always looked like a riding jacket and had led to a lot of conversations to the fact when I went out with it. Being so use to layers I figured I’d never wear this coat for that purpose. Now here I was in my great looking leather jacket, my tight jeans and tennis shoes on, and some guy started talking all sorts of smack when we pulled along side his car at a stop light. Apparently I was looking good. This was the sexy experience that I had figured was impossible.
Hitting eight-one miles per hour on the highway we arrived at the sports bar where we would be eating. Sharing other riding stories we had basically kept us going through dinner. On the way home he found a long stretch of straight road and tucked in for better aerodynamics. Leaning in with him, it was crazy to feel the wind move around you with the shape of the bike as oppose to the fight I was use to on my friend’s cruiser. I may have been a cruiser snob before, but this sports bike definitely had my mind changed when I got off and walked into the house. That was a hell of an experience!
I have two passions right now, both of which I’m sure I’ll never be able to afford. The new ‘05 Mustang and any motorcycle out there will always make my head turn and reduce me to simple puppy like whining. Both are beautiful machines made to go fast. Who knows what the future holds for me. I can only hope that it isn’t another year till I get to ride again.

Makes Me Move

At the moment I seem to be in a rather House music focus. I haven’t gone dancing to hip-hop in quite a while and all the music in my car has been from the techno side rather than jamming out to the radio or the other half of my CD collection. It wasn’t until Nicole and I went out last that I realized it had been such a long time since I had heard some of my favorite songs.
Even though it was a dance remix of this hip-hop song, when Outkast came out with “The Way You Move”, it was an immediate success to me. I loved it, sought it out, and seemed blessed in flipping on MTV and hitting right on the video. Something about that song always physically propels me out to the dance floor, or up on a platform, to just really bust a move.

The Way You Move
By Outkast

Boom, Boom, Boom.
Heh, Heh.

(Verse 1) [Big Boi]
Ready for action, nip it in the bud.
We never relaxin’, OutKast is everlastin’
Not clashin’, not at all
But see my nigga went to do a little actin’
Now that’s for anyone askin’
Give me one, pass em’
Drip, drip, drop... There goes an eargasm
Now you cumin’ out the side of your face
We tappin’ right into your memory banks (Thanks)
So click-it or ticket, let’s see your seat belt fastened
Trunk rattlin’, like two midgets in the back seat wrestlin’
Speakerboxxx vibrate the tag
Make it sound like aluminum cans in a bag

(Pre-Chorus):
But I know y’all wanted that 808/ Can you feel that B-A-S-S, bass
But I know y’all wanted that 808/ Can you feel that B-A-S-S, bass

(Chorus):
I like the way you move
I like the way you move (Woooo)
I love the way you move
I love the way, I love the way.
I like the way you move
I like the way you move (Woooo)
I love the way you move
I love the way, I love the way.

(Verse 2) [Big Boi]
The whole room fell silent, (Shhhhh!) the girls all paused with glee
Turnin’ left, turning right are they lookin’ at me?
Well I was looking at them, there, there on the dance floor
Now, they got me in the middle feelin’ like a man-whore
Especially the big girl, big girls need love too
No discrimination here, squirrel
So keep your hands off my cheeks
Let me study how you ride the beat, you big freak!
Skinny, slim women got the camel-toe within ‘em
You can hump them, lift them, bend them, give them something to remember
Yell out “timber” when you fall through the chop shop
Take a deep a breath and exhale
Your ex-male friend, boyfriend was boring as hell
Well let me listen to the story you tell
And we can make moves like a person in jail... on the low, hoe!

[Chorus]

[Sleepy Brown]
Hey baby, girl don’t you stop it
Come on lady, dance all around me
You look so fine, look so fine
Drive me out of my mind, out of my mind, out of my mind (Aawww baby!)
If I could, I would just leave with you, baby
Oooooh, ‘cause you light me and excite me
And you know you got me, baby (Wooooo!)

(Chorus and Out)
I like the way you move (I like the way you move)
I like the way you move (Oooh, so sexy baaby!)(Woooo)
I love the way you move
I love the way, I love the way. (Woooo)

I love the way you move (I love the way you move)
I love the way you move (Oooh, you so sexy baby) (Woooo)
I love the way you move
I love the way, I love the way.

I like the way you move
I like the way you move (Woooo)

I love the way, I love the way.

I love the way you move
I love the way you move (Woooo)
I love the way you move
I love the way, I love the way.

Off To Work I Go

In my mission statement I made the point that I went out clubbing a lot and I wanted a place to write my experiences and share my stories. This is not to say that the only time I leave my house is to head out to a club. It’s just the only outing that always ends up in an interesting story afterwards.
When writing about my crew from work it’s been in brief passing and that we had simply been drinking before I went out to whatever club later. Looking at that now it’s almost funny how little I mention them as being a part of my escapades, when I really spend 24/7 with these people. But to tell any sort of story about a night out with this crew would be too entirely confusing. We are a tightly nit group that is founded on a whole lot of shit talking, and bound together by a similar hate for the stupid public. Most of our laughter is based on inside jokes and situations that are only extremely funny if you had been there. That’s not to say a person couldn’t be caught up because most of us are extremely hilarious storytellers.
Yet even though I’ve tried to sit down and really tell a story about some crazy situation that we had gotten in to or that we instigated, it’s just too difficult to really set the stage properly and show only one scene in an on-going comedy. The other lead for my department and close friend Aaron has always said that we should have a comic strip or a sitcom because of the almost consistent situational hilarity.
Being in a customer service job, the public is a huge source for laughter. The first half of it is being able to relieve the stress of dealing with the difficult and down right rude. The other half is the stupidity that is presented to us on a regular basis and results in pure laughter directly at that person (after they leave of course). In fact, in order to keep my sanity during my first taste of our incredibly busy season, I started a little note pad of stupid questions. Now it’s blown up into a whole three-ring notebook as an ongoing project that receives new entries just about every day. The point of it all is that if we didn’t find a way to laugh about it, then we’d all lose our minds and tempers.
The other part of the equation is the whacked out crew that we’ve accumulated. Those who have survived with us are those that have their own little quirks and unique brand of humor. When I step back and look at the cast of characters that I work with everyday and then the ones that I hang out with after hours, we are a motley crew. Yet some how or another, whatever quirks and strange hobbies we all have, it helps us all fit together, sometimes get on each other’s nerves but mostly just add to the laughter.
For as long as the laughter continues, even thought none of us is paid what we should be, I plan to keep on right where I am. There’s something worth more than money in a place like this. I may be poor but I’m happy.

A Toast To Men

A totally inappropriate song, of which I must have gotten the edited version when I originally downloaded it, “A Toast To Men” is the only other song by Willa Ford that seems to have made it to the radio. The first time I heard it on my dance radio station I laughed out loud and thought it was pretty awesome.
Male rappers have been writing similar songs about women since it all began. I can only think of two other songs that women have preformed that match that sort of raw honesty. “One Minute Man” by Missy Elliot, and “How Many Licks” by Little Kim both speak from the perspective of a woman but in the same dirty, nasty language that seems to be reserved for the boys club.
I was going through a major break up, the sort that leaves you looking for a new place to live, and hating all male gendered animals. This song made me sit back and realize that I didn’t have it so bad, and if anything I had a lot of things to look forward to. Either way, I thought the beginning toast was something worth bringing to the table during the next girls night out. Ironic that it was a year later and over something a lot less heart wrenching. Either way, it fit the moment and that’s all that matters.

A Toast To Men
by Willa Ford featuring Lady May

[WILLA]
Girls, I'd like to make a toast on the behalf of men
Here's to the men we love
Here's to the men who love us
Here's to the men we love who don’t love us
Fuck the men, let's drink to us!

Here's to the men we love to love
Here's to the men in love with us
Here's to the men who pass on us

ah ah
Ooh

[WILLA]
That’s right boys!

[LADY MAY (rap)]
There was this tattoo artist partied for hours
Huge in the pants loved to screw in the shower
Bitch done keyed up his new Eddie Bauer
I shulda dumped him but I was too coward
Til I met this school-boy that studied at Howard,
Nerdy but he calls and be sendin' me flowers,
I'm feelin’ him, but had to get rid of him
Nerd boy turned out to be a minute-man

[CHORUS]
Here's to the men we love to love
Here's to the men in love with us
Here's to the men who pass on us
Fuck the men, Let's drink to us y'all

Here's to the men we love to love
Here's to the men in love with us
Here's to the men who pass on us
Fuck the men, Let's drink to us y'all

[LADY MAY (rap)]
I've been with boys with baldies, boys with hair curly,
Boy's in their 30's, boys that ain't worthy,
Boys I fell for, slept with too early
Boys with dicks straight, Boys with dicks curvy
Boys locked up in the bing
I fucked boys in hotels, motels, Holiday Inns
All this talk men is ridiculous
Fuck the men, let's drink to us!

[CHORUS]
Here's to the men we love to love
Here's to the men in love with us
Here's to the men who pass on us
Fuck the men, Let's drink to us y'all

Here's to the men we love to love
Here's to the men in love with us
Here's to the men who pass on us
Fuck the men, Let's drink to us y'all

[LADY MAY]
Willa has something to say

[WILLA]
Thanks Lady May

Take it on now girls give the eyes what they want to see
Take it on now girls be whatever you want to be
Crazy ladies, tight-ass bodies
Let'em know we come to party
Live it up now boys got your eyes on that lady
Live it up now cuz she won't be your baby
Go home lonely, leave you horny, it's a girls night after party
Fuck'em all cuz men don't have nothing but dicks on us
Fuck'em all cuz they soft then beg us to strap on us
Get your big "O"., no love making,
Let him know his bitch was fakin'

Here's to the men we love to love
(Hmm I wonder who that could be?)
Here's to the men in love with us
Here's to the men who pass on us
Fuck the men, Let's drink to us y'all

Here's to the men we love to love
Here's to the men in love with us
Here's to the men who pass on us
Fuck the men, Let's drink to us

Here's to the men we love to love
Here's to the men in love with us
Here's to the men who pass on us
Fuck the men, Let's drink to us

Ooh Ooh!

Oh my God - did I just say that?

That's right girls - There's a sorority anthem for ya!
Fuck the men, Let's drink to us y'all!

Pre-Funkin' In The City

Tuesday turned out to be a tightly packed day and night. After going to the zoo with a co-worker on City Passes. I headed home again, wondering what to do with myself until I headed back out to the city that night. I had had an awesome time with my co-worker and wasn’t necessarily ready to go sit home alone. It’s like I get addicted to be being in other people’s company. Living at home is like walking through a strange time warp. I walk through the door and I’m a little kid again. A little kid who wants to go do grown-up things. Walking out the door I’m an adult with people to see and things to do.
Making a couple phone calls I got a hold of Jimmy who was actually planning on going out that night. He wanted to keep it simple by getting some drinks and hanging out with his friend Steve who I like to call my Sugar Daddy. Eager to see them both I headed home to change my clothes and return to the city. Whether the two of them actually went out that night I was determined to go see Simply Jeff spin that night at my spot.
Jimmy and I ended up heading to the store for some supplies to manage a proper pre-funk. Jimmy had finished the Bartending College course; because of which I gave him crap that he’d better show me what he had learned. A couple heavy drinks later I realized that I hadn’t eaten dinner and the potato chips we had bought didn’t really cut it. Cheeks flushed and acting totally goofy I was between emotions; it was nice to feel so carefree while hanging out with two good guys, but I was a little embarrassed that I was so noticeably tipsy so quickly.
Heading out, the boys wanted to go to a martini place they really liked and I was along for the ride. I gave up on feeling embarrassed about my state of intoxication since it was only nine o’clock and I wasn’t driving. I had plenty of time to sober up, but for now I was having a great time joking around with these guys and just feeling young.
The martini place ended up being one that I had always walked by downtown. A well-known place, I’d only seen the inside packed to the standing room only. That night it was pretty empty and we headed toward the back for a seat. Behind us was a huge “wheel of fortune” style deal that had choices such as Smirnoff Vodka or chicken strips. Steve and Jimmy explained to me that it was the Happy Hour Wheel. Every hour a waitress would spin the wheel to see what the special would be.
We weren’t sitting there very long when Jimmy noticed an older guy sitting at the bar alone reading a book. Heading out in his normal way, he sat down next to guy and struck up a conversation. Steve and I just shook our heads and kept talking. Ordering drinks and appetizers I was at my limit for alcohol that night, half way through my Blue Moon Martini. I was enjoying the chicken strips more than anything else. Jimmy returned and introduced us to the random guy he had been talking to as the poor guy made a hasty exit. On that note I had to use the restroom and got some fuzzy directions from the guys. It was a bit of an adventure, which is not what a person hopes for when really having to go. It was a great little game of finding the signs and trying to figure out where exactly the arrows were pointing.
Deciding that it was late enough to go see Simply Jeff, Jimmy said he would just call in sick the next day and that we should go get some dancing in. Headed back to the car I remember wondering why Jimmy always seemed to take Steve for granted, when paying for stuff. I felt bad but relieved when Steve paid; being low on cash this outing was more than I should have gone for. But thanks to Steve I could still hang out without worrying.
Down to the lounge we went and it was already starting to get busy. As Jimmy made his rounds of people he knew and meeting new ones, I stationed myself off to the side to wait for Simply Jeff. It never ceases to amaze me, and it never ceases to make it into my posts, how easy Jimmy can just walk around and meet people. The more he drank, on the other hand, the weirder my introductions got. At one point I got a little pissed that he was practically pimping me out.
It was after then, that I just stopped having fun. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but I was unhappy about being there. Jimmy was the one driving, and the one drinking the most. Not that I haven’t done it before, so I really can’t judge, I was just surprised to find myself so immediately on the other side of the fence. My independent streak also comes out hardcore since I got stranded after my birthday. The idea of being caught again without the ability to do more than walk and hope for the best scares me. Now here I was again with the driver getting seriously drunk and my cell phone battery was dying.
Simply Jeff was spinning some great music, and had I been in a better mood I might have had a better time. I was too busy worrying about my transportation situation. The place also got really crowded so I couldn’t even go to the dance floor and ignore the situation for a while. Normally when Jimmy pisses me off, while we’re at the hip-hop club we normally go to, I just run to the other side of the floor and start over in my own bubble. This whole lounge on the other hand was the same size as just the dance floor at the other club.
For a while I came and went whenever there was space to move. It was comforting that I at least knew where Steve was. Part of me knew that Jimmy would be less likely to leave us both behind. Dancing more that I had been, I started to get seriously hot. Figuring I would end up at the lounge alone, I dressed sexy but as warm as I could for more of a bar atmosphere. It was kicking my butt here as well. Another reason to feel uncomfortable and unhappy.
The decision to leave seemed almost random. Jimmy finally reappeared from where ever he had been spending his time and Steve went to talk to him. Then they were parading by me with all the coats and shirts they had shed when we arrived. Time to go we headed down the stairs. Watching the way Jimmy was walking and acting I was seriously worried about how he was feeling. Yet again I was weak when it came to putting my foot down about Jimmy driving. He was obviously intoxicated and having trouble putting the damn key in the ignition. There Steve and I sat waiting for him to get it together. Several times I asked him if he was all right which is totally stupid. Not two weeks ago I was puking and telling my poor passenger that I was just fine.
We made it home fine but this is truly something that needs to stop along with my silence on the whole affair. It’s dumb to put your life in danger by drinking and driving in the first place. But its closer to taking responsibility for your own actions, than being the sober person sitting there letting a drunken person drive.

Something About This Song

I bought the Daft Punk album Discovery back before I turned twenty-one. I loved the song “Around the World” and wanted the CD. It was also a popular song that was being played both on the radio and at the college dances. When I broke up with my boyfriend I turned to music hardcore and spent a lot of lonely nights surrounding myself with music I could hide in.
“Something About Us” was a track that stuck out to me immediately. The lyrics are so few and simple but I’ve always felt like it really spoke to the emotion of the situation being described. At this current point in my life, I’m dealing with a chronic case of “Bad Timing” it seems. Dancing with Nicole the other night to this song, which I haven’t honestly heard in about a year, it was not strange that I remembered all the words (that’s the way my brain works) but strange that I remembered the feeling this song always brings out in me. It fit perfectly with the mood of the night that Nicole and I had cultivated. Relevant to my life or not this is a song that I think will always make me feel.


Something About Us
By Daft Punk

It might not be the right time
I might not be the right one
But there's something about us I want to say
Cause there's something between us anyway

I might not be the right one
It might not be the right time
But there's something about us I've got to do
Some kind of secret I will share with you

I need you more than anything in my life
I want you more than anything in my life
I'll miss you more than anyone in my life
I love you more than anyone in my life

F@#$ The Men

With personal problems that seemed to be overwhelming the two of us, Nicole and I planned out a “Girls Night” and hoped to find some new interests to take our minds off our current and somewhat similar boy problems.
The plan had been to meet up after I got off work and head downtown to shop for an outfit for the evening, scrounge up dinner, and then head out to our Saturday night spot. That got cut back with the amount I received for all my hard work the prior two weeks, and that the whole plan had major flaws. I was already drinking with the crew from work at an Irish pub on Friday when Nicole called me to nail down some details. It turned into dinner and drinks before heading to the club, and we would be meeting up at the very same Irish pub.
Friday night I ended up heading to see a friend and accidentally left my hat at his house. The drive home I was kicking myself hardcore because that was my party hat, my good luck hat! I look incredibly awesome in that hat and for me to even say that tells you how much I love this particular accessory. Turning around or going after work the next night was an impossibility since my friend lived almost an hour away in the best of traffic. I simply had to deal with the sad idea that I was going to have to go out dancing hatless the next night.
Saturday turned out to be a crazy day at work, both personally and professionally. By the time I got off work I was ready to head home for a power nap. What I ended up doing was dinking around on my computer until I had about twenty minutes to get ready and head out. I was tired and not very interested in going out anymore. Nicole was tired as well and I had a bad feeling we weren’t going to be much of a trouble-making pair that night.
Driving to the pub I was facing the idea that I was going to be late, even with that at the forefront of my mind, I still managed to go on automatic and take the wrong exit as if I was heading to work. Thus adding another good fifteen minutes to how late I was going to be. Then there was the worry about where I would end up parking, since I had known the place to get pretty darn busy on the weekends. Feeling completely accomplished when I found street parking, that was all crushed when I walked around the corner of the building and realized that there was still spaces open in the parking lot and from the looks of place, as I walked across the main floor to where Nicole was seated, it was going to be a slow night anyway.
Sitting down with a couple drinks and sharing a fish and chip dinner, we caught up on what the other person had been up to. During which I found out that the world truly is an incredibility small place. Nicole is an admissions counselor for the university we both graduated from. I was mentioning that I had two girls that worked for me that had just decided on going there for college. Doubting she knew either of them she instead mentioned who her star recruit was, which was indeed one of my girls. Of all the names to come flying out of her mouth, it was just kind of strange that it turned out to be Lauren’s especially since Nicole was technically trying to change the subject.
Then came the bitch fest and it was strange to realize that once again we were in the same spot. Different men, totally different circumstances, and yet we were in the same emotional and silly social corner. It was at that moment that I remembered lyrics to a song I had always thought would make a great toast. It was also the very best moment to possibly toast to such a thing.

Here’s to the men we love
Here’s to the men who love us
Here’s to the men we love who don’t love us
FUCK the men, lets drink to us!

A great song which lyrics I’ll have to post now. It was funny just how perfect that moment was and that I had remembered such a thing to be able to use it. It was also one of the first satisfying toasts I’ve ever drank to.
We headed out then with Nicole driving. We both had a feeling of expectation for the evening. When you broke it down, there’s nothing like a new guy to help you forget the old guy, or in our collective case, help us calm down and be able to be “friends” with the old guy. I had no money to be expecting to drink a ton that night, but it was nice to be able to know I didn’t have to drive out of the city that night.
Parking in our usual spot, it was frustrating to know that we were too early for it to be really exciting once inside, but just a little too late to avoid the cover charge. From there the night sort of leveled out. Nothing exciting happened, nothing bad happened, it was more like a flat line. We stood shivering in line while the guys in front of us made fun of the fact that Nicole had stashed her cash and ID in her boot. Ignoring them we heading inside and looked around at what possibilities the night held for us. The first scan was damn disappointing.
Getting a drink we stood looking around again, wishing that the DJ could at least be spinning. No such luck there, it would be another fifteen minutes. Moving up to a balcony area that over looked the club we watched the incoming DJ start setting up; for some reason I’m like a kid in the candy store when watching that kind of thing.
It was several years ago when I first started kicking around the idea of being a DJ; I was hanging out with a friend of mine who was spinning at a new club for him. The equipment provided was driving him crazy because it was so outdated. He had brought in his own mixer and that night as I waited for the club to close, I watched intently as he and another DJ friend removed his mixer and plugged the whole system back into the old one. Just a whole lot of wires and cables that plug into a big black box, and definitely not something that should have held the attention of one so stereotypically dressed up and sweaty from dancing the night away. It was just the opposite; I wanted to know more about everything they did. I was completely fascinated.
Nicole and I talked again about how I really needed to get started in that business. What I wouldn’t give to be able to afford the “two turntables and a microphone” that Beck talks about in one of his songs. About a year ago I tucked that dream away as a sort of long-term goal but I know it will only grown to some sort of hobby not a profession. That doesn’t stop me from watching, reading, dancing, and learning.
Daft Punk “Something About Us” was what got Nicole down on to the floor. It was almost ironic since it’s such a sad song. In the weird filing system of my brain I still remembered all the words, and found it ironic that it also fit with the mood for the night we seemed to be holding too. Nicole was down about Tim and I was down about Dominick, two men we had met at that very club. This outing we had talked about so highly, as being the night where we would try and cause as much trouble as possible in order for me to be able to post a great adventure here, was turning into a great cosmic joke full of ironies.
The DJ changed style and we headed back up to our balcony look out. It was all small talk really as we scanned the crowd for something cute and promising. The only thing I spied was when Max and Shannon walked across the floor to start work behind their separate bars. Those two boys will make an alcoholic out of me.
The crowd was not very charged, and it wasn’t the regular sort of group. There were a couple bachelorette parties and a lot of first timers dressed in either too much or too little. I always cringe whenever I look at the pictures from my twenty-first birthday. Not because I got drunk, I was completely sober that night, but because of how naively I was dressed. I thought I had something up on having been to a club in Canada and the fact that I had a ton of friends that were already involved in the club scene. There’s just a specific sense of style that the clubbing world has, and it’s odd because you don’t get a feel for it until you go several times. It’s not what’s in magazines or on MTV. I’ve come to think it as a combination of style and survival. I firmly believe that you really get to know who you are as a person in your twenties. As you discover your own personal sense of style, it flows through everything you do. As a dancer I also strive to look good as well as be comfortable. I will never understand the injuries girls give themselves for the sake of a cute pair of shoes. But with that jaded critical eye, it’s not hard to look at a group of people standing by the bar and know which just turned the legal age, or hardly ever club.
When the downstairs opened Nicole and I followed the flow of the crowd in order for me to check my coat. I really need to learn the coat check girl’s name. I always write about how awesome she is, but she’s still just The Coat-Check-Girl. That night as she took my coat she asked a really great question, “Where’s your hat?” It freaking figures that the night I’m all bothered by the fact that I don’t have my hat, the girl notices that it’s missing. I explained my angst over the situation to which she laughed and wished my a good night. I saved that info to later bug my guy friend. I texted him the fact that the hat he was holding hostage was indeed a well-known commodity.
Straight to Shannon Nicole and I went, looking forward to seeing his awesome smile and enjoying the girlish knowledge that I sort of knew the bartender that all the girls drooled over. This didn’t turn out to be the case. There was something wrong with the ice they had stocked in the bar and two of the bartenders were doing their best to melt it down as quickly as possible. Within that confusion Shannon looked less than pleased in general. He made the drinks in a hurried fashion and moved on without really talking. Standing off to the side, my lemon drop shot had ice cubes in it and her Vodka Redbull was very strong. Disappointed with the whole encounter we peeked around the corner to see if there was anyone worth hanging around there for.
Upstairs again the music was good and we were eager to dance. The floor was basically empty except for the two of us and an older woman who had been dancing since we first arrived. Everyone else who had been somewhat jazzed up about being out on a Saturday night went downstairs for the hip-hop music. Looking around again I caught Max’s eye from the bar and he sent me a wave, his expression was one of knowing me for a long time. I’ll always be a floor starter; it’s never been in my nature to ignore the call of a good song.
With that said, when the DJ played my favorite remixed dance version of Outkast “I Love The Way You Move” I went straight to the platform closest to me and jumped up to do my thing. The floor had started to fill in, at least enough for me to not feel like a complete dork by being up on the platform. The woman that had been dancing with us earlier gave me a wave as well from where she sat near the bar.
That was pretty much the end of the night. The rest of it was dodging around guys who danced by flinging their arms about, girls who felt like crossing the dance floor right where we were dancing, and ignoring this one particular guy who was trying to get one of us, not caring which, interested.
As the floor filled up, Nicole pointed out that the DJ seemed to be checking our reaction every time he put on a new song. I thought he was doing a great job and the progressive that he was throwing down was totally golden. All my favorites in one set. When he made way for the next DJ, I caught him as he crossed the floor in front of me and told him that exact thought. Shaking my hand he walked away with a smile instead of the rather pensive look had come down with. Another big time local DJ walked by and I shook his hand as well. An amazing talent on the turntables, Gene Lee was the first DJ I saw when I first discovered my Tuesday spot. Sad thing was I knew he would have recognized me with the hat.
At one point we got fed up and walked downstairs again to scan one last time for a reason to stay. It was packed solid down there and hot as hell, but I cut a determined path through the dance floor only to end up on the other side next the DJ booth completely disappointed. No room to dance, no reason to stay, no wish to deal with what we might find if we did stay, that path was cut again in reverse and for the last time that night.
Again we were upstairs and dancing, but I knew Nicole was finished. We were not finding anything we had hoped for. No trouble, no men, and nothing that would make a really great post. At about one o’clock we baled. Walking back to the car I remember being glad that I had managed to maintain a healthy buzz without accidentally drinking too much. I also remember feeling disappointed that Nicole and I hadn’t managed the adventure we had pumped ourselves up for in the first place.
Driving home we were both exhausted and quiet. I’m figuring that it’ll be a while before the two of us go out again. Closer to the summer the crowds will get more interesting I hope. I on the other hand get the feeling I need to keep checking on a good excuse to go by myself again. A great DJ spinning good music, nothing but water in my system, and a damn good dance session is what I need. Sweat out the demons that are plaguing me.