As Promised...

This entry is dedicated to my Jean *bamp* and the guy across the street...

As promised, I've found some new strategies for dealing with the horrid world that follows April around (I mean the month, not the reporter from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles). What could it be? Stories about me. If these stories do not bring you any joy at all, I can do nothing for you--you're hopeless. Here goes nothing...

Erin, Brenda, and Sandra Hit the Town
Thursday night, driven by a complete and utter lack of excuses and spite directed at my lovingly controlling boyfriend, I put on a shirt that Brenda approved of, drank some wine, drank some rum, and then got in a cab for a night out. (First night out all year I might add--and just did.) Seems normal enough, right? You know me better than that I hope.

We danced. No big deal. Minus the 7 foot tall guy that I gave a weird look to who told me he was just a big teddy bear. It reminded me of a pick up line I learned in grade 8: "I lost my teddy bear, can I sleep with you instead?" No dice. It was noisy and he hit on Sandra because I'm short. Sandra gave him a run for his money while Brenda danced with some randomer that pulled out the puppy dog eyes when she didn't pay enough attention to him.

Normal enough...you know it gets better. Brenda kept bugging the DJ to play her song. I'll let you ask her what it is 'cause I don't remember. When they finally did, she and Sandra got up on the platform and danced together. I two-stepped in front of them for a few minutes, then they insisted that I join them. So, I was there, dancing away. The song ended but they didn't want to get down. I leaned against some railing and a guy came up to me and asked me if my legs were broken. I said,"Nope, but I'm embarrassed about the way I dance." He wanted to see what I had to be so embarrassed about. [Sidebar: You know that part in Clueless where they are at the party and the red haired ditz gets knocked out by the shoe? then her and Elvin dance to "Rollin' with the Homies"? I need you to picture that. If you don't, I'll re-enact this part for you later.) Can you figure out what I did? Holy "rollin' with the homies" gone wrong. That guy said he liked everything but the hand movements. The hand movements made the dance though, so after he gave me a dirty look for mentioning Clueless I set my sights on someone a little more appreciative of my unique character...

And that brings us to a section of this story I will lovingly refer to as "Serenade featuring an Interpretive Bar Stool Dance" by Erin Smith. We went upstairs, where they have live music (apparently--I was just following the other two). The man with the guitar, we will call him Randolph, was playing relatively good music, and I sang along. He was loud enough that no one was disturbed. Brenda, Sandra, and I sat quietly on our stools, listening, watching a few people dance together. That was boring. Someone decided we needed to dance. Somehow I decided we needed to perform a ballet--and did. But the night was wearing on, and my feet were getting sore, so we sat down, and I did a little ballet from my seat. Then Brenda and Sandra had this ingenious (read: horrible, mean) idea: Randolph needs to serenade Erin. They picked me up, stool and all, and put me down not 3 inches from dear Randolph's face. I didn't know what to do. So I looked him deep in the eyes and swayed along to the music (I think he was playing Pearl Jam). Eventually my swaying got boring, so I performed a brief interpretive dance with lots of arm movements--a few of them reminiscent of my earlier Clueless-esque moves.

To make everything better (or worse, I'll let you be the judge this time only), this guy saw me and decided to come chat to the girls who got me into that horrific mess. We will call this guy Dunstan (Katrina I will give you money if you know why I picked that name). Then, Sandra and Brenda picked Dunstan up, stool and all, and plopped him down beside me. We proceeded to perform a duet while dear Randolph sang on. I tried to get him to play goo but he said he didn't know any and didn't really like them. Obviously, our relationship had to end there. I truly believe it was doomed from the onset. However, Dunstan and I got along famously and I hope very hard that his parents don't cut him off so that he can obtain that Socio/Psych degree after nearly a decade of misused time. I told him you can't party all the time and expect to do well in school, and hopefully he took my wise words straight to heart.

That said, we'll have to save the other stories for next time. Here's the teaser for you: big hole, fire department, "can of worms". Even if you heard the story, it'll be worth taking a peak at because I so enjoy embellishing.

The world is full of nuts, but Wein ain't one of 'em. Convert.