So Many Things...

Where to start? Hooked up with an old high school friend...so excited about that. Always loved him :) Turns out he is learning West Coast Swing (my favorite...well, second favorite dance.)

Went to dinner with him, J and B last night and then he and I moved on to a very mellow West Coast Swing "Social". The dance is held at the Sunnyside Grange. Wide variety of people to dance with, everybody dances with everybody. Like I said, very social and the rules of "Dance With The One That Brung You" do not apply here. Married, single, young, old we are a very friendly group. C (the high school friend)and I then decided that we were not ready to call it a night when the nice social ended.

This is where it went wrong...or really, really well if you want to know the honest truth. We went to The Refectory. Or as some you know it, The Ref@$%tory. Dear God, that place hasn't changed in 25 years. When it's listed in Bar Fly Magazines category of "Meat Market", they weren't kidding. It's described as, "A dance floor of thirty-something delights or a charitable portion of Hell." And the exterior design is referred to as, "Garrish, resembling a Fisher Price STD Factory." How could I not have fun there?

C and I actually went to swing dance, because we like the faster "dance" music. The floor was a little full, but swing me around a few times, let me throw a couple of elbows and we found a slot to dance in :) As the crowd (and myself) got drunker, the elbows became bad because I start to throw them a little too hard. Time to go sit, talk (yell over the music) and people watch. Holy SHIT!!
The people watching was fucking fantastic. There was of course the, "Tiny go-go dancing old man", (as described by Bar Fly Mag). I actually have him on video doing the robot...on stage. Then there were the two skeezy "thugs" (and I use the term loosely because I could have kicked their asses...at the same time) dressed as twins (they weren't), in white Yankee hats, white shirts with large embossed $100 bills on them, the fake-ass 400 pound "gold" necklace and the requisite jeans, 18 sizes too big and belted aroung the lower 1/3 of their ass. Not sure about the shoes...the jeans ate their feet. Oh, and they were like 5'2" and maybe 110 pounds soaking wet. That's why they carry guns...they can't run in those pants and they're the size of 10 year olds. The awesome part was that they just hung out at the edge of the dance floor, standing about 6 inches away from it, totally waiting for crotch shots. Which, much to my amusement were not far away. There was the totally loaded, 40ish to 50ish lady in a flowered dress that looked like she would just roll out of bed (or the backseat of her car)and walk right into church Sunday morning, that literally lifted the dress from behind, did a spinning dance move and showed the entire bar her pantyhose covered ass. There was a young guy that was apparently feeling moved enough by the music that he repeatedly kept taking his shirt off and "riding" it. And my personal favorite, "Black Skirt Girl." She was the star. Even C couldn't help watching her. Her skirt was so short that just standing still you got ass cheek. God fobid she should start dancing...which of course she did. Ass everywhere. She was young. I felt kind of bad...like maybe I should tell her that if she did that in a different club she'd be making $500 a night. Hee hee. And you can't forget about the girls that escaped from the stock yard. You know, the ones that weigh about 250 pounds and wear clothes for someone that weighs aproximately 130 pounds. Good God, I can't wait to go back. Maybe I'll even get my own nickname some day.

Then, as if I wasn't feeling old enough already, I come rolling in at 3am to be greeted by B who promptly reminds me that since it is past midnight (ie: now August 9th) that it is his birthday. His 16th birthday. Fuck me, my baby boy is 16 and I just came home from The Refectory. I can't decide if that makes me pathetic or awesome in the parenting department?