Butter On My Sweet Potato

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Posted by Gin on January 28, 2008

I feel kind of like ass today.
Or I should say, if I were able to feel my body, it would tell me “You feel like ass today.”
I’m congested and cough-y and struck with fits of lighteadedness, so I’ve spent the morning breathing slowly and deeply, and doing important things like organizing our community snack drawer or using the hole-puncher.

My weekend was Meh.
Was not able to see Sharon Jones on Friday night, dammit, because I got roped into helping my parents out with some stuff, and by the time I got home, I was exhausted, and the show was sold out (glad I called ahead). Poop.

Saturday night we went to the Continental Club to see Two Tons of Steel. I’m not a particularly big fan of theirs, but it had been a while since we’d been out, and they are pretty danceable.
It turned out to be more crowded than we’d expected, as a bunch of annoying nerd dance club members were there, and were just annoying as fuck. They were all in their little jazz dance shoes, with their shirts tucked in, dancing to the house music in between bands. WE ARE IN A BAR. Sulk condescendingly in the corner with your beer like normal people. Do not get all huffy when someone spills their Lone Star on your precious Capezios or whatever the fuck they are.

I’ll admit to being perhaps judgier than most (but trust me, as much as I slag on other people, I give it to myself 10 times worse), but these people were ripe for the snarking – there was a lady wearing a red velvet shirt with an actual matching clip-on red velvet bow in her hair, which she wore just above her ear. Most of the guys were of the light-wash-tapered-leg-jeans, white-athletic-socks-with-shiny-black-dress-shoes variety. They all looked like crazy cat people. It was almost too much for my little catty mind to bear, so I went back on my self-imposed abstention for the night, and got a little drunk.

I’ll throw in here that, for the most part, I like Drunk Gin. Drunk Gin tends to use lots of big words, interspersed with all manner of uses of the word “fuck”. It’s how I wish I could talk all the time, but somehow I don’t think that my government supervisors would take kindly to me carrying around a water bottle full of Shiner. Plus, since Drunk Gin only shows up a handful of times a year, I treasure her appearances all the more.
I will also admit that it’s entirely possible that the only reason I find Drunk Gin so charming is because I’m drunk when she comes around.
I will now stop talking about my drunk self in the second person.

Back to the point (wait, there’s a point?). J had had a few beers too, so while he was only very slightly buzzed, his tongue was loosened enough that we had a really good conversation on the way home. What we talked about was trite and boring – about our (hypothetical) children, and how we intend to raise them, blah blah blah, and wait, when are we going to get our taxes done? – but we don’t talk about deep things that often, and it was nice.

I think I started this post with a point in mind. Huh. Can’t remember what it is now.

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