I was determined as all hell to go dancing Friday night. Despite taking a nap that left me a bit nauseous, Madd and I finally left to go to Club Cherry. The last time we were there, we had lots of fun dancing non-stop. We were hopefully going to dance all of the shit from this week off and get drunk as all hell.
We got in at around midnight when they started a tribute to Amerika. All of the go-go dancers were on stage carrying a flag while Jimi Hendrix’s rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner” blared on the speakers. The only adjective I can think of is nice. The national anthem segued into Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York”. It was fun dancing to that while nursing my Long Island Iced Tea.
After that, I felt something amiss. I couldn’t precisely point to it; I didn’t know whether it was because I wasn’t as drunk I would’ve liked to have been, or if the music selection was just plain shit. It became clear to me as the night went on is that there was way too much testosterone flying about the club. Evidently a lot of the military boys decided to come out that night. Great. And to top it all off, they played Nirvana’s “Smells like Teen Spirit” and Beatle’s “All You Need Is Love” to close the night out. I was not happy.
Madd and I decided to go to the Coffee House on Sunset to commiserate. I got a fruit bowl with yogurt and a double mocha. Made plans for Saturday which involved make up shopping for myself and a movie. We ended up nixing the make up shopping, went to Borders at the Third Street Promenade and saw “The Glass House” (which was all right for that type of movie). I bought another Christian McLaughlan book called Glamourpuss, David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, Queer as Folk soundtrack, and PJ Harvey’s Rid of Me. I lost IJ and Rid of Me during my move here to LA, so I’m quite happy to have them back.
So here I am at work, wanting to read. That’s all I want to do now. Read read read.