Last night I got invited out to
Buckshot to meet up with Corinne and some friends. I was feeling pretty chuffed (that's right,
chuffed) about getting this writing gig, so I decided that having a few celebratory drinks wasn't such a bad idea.
Thankfully, the place wasn't full at all. Buckshot's kind of this kitsch-dive place that's not really a dive. They have skeeball, shuffleboard, weird mounted deer heads adorning the walls, whatever. The reason why I go to Buckshot is for 2 dollar Tecates and PBRs. Call me hipster, scenester, whatever, I don't fucking care-- 2 dollars a can means I get fucked up with a 20 from the ATM, and that's great. Then next door? Nizario's Pizza.
What's also great about Buckshot is it's been home to some of the greatest dance parties ever. Granted, the DJs are hit or miss (and by miss I mean throwing in shit reggae after New Order or something. Dude, cut that shit out.), but when it's hit, it's hit. Last night the DJ was... decent. He had some good moments. So we got out there and started dancing, and basically it was just the four of us on the dance floor, rocking out then taking breaks during down songs. But I guess I was in a good mood, because every time a song started that I recognized, I ran over, grabbed everyone and we would just go crazy.
I realized that everything I've learned from dancing I've learned from two things:
1. Mimes.
2. This:
So I'm flailing around like a freak and I've had some beers, so I don't particularly care if people are looking our way. Even when our friends left and it was just me and Corinne dancing (how it ALWAYS goes), I didn't care. The DJ played tons of my favorite shit and I was drunk. Suddenly, this weird nerdy looking drunk dude saunters up to me and Corinne and says:
Drunk Nerd: You have IT.
Me: I what?
Drunk Nerd: You. Have. It. I don't know what IT is, but you have it.
Then he wandered off and kept pointing me out to people through the night. I didn't know whether to feel flattered or embarrassed.