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Well, this was a weekend in which I was actually quite popular. Went out to lunch with my dance teacher and another girl in class, went clubbing a few times, went to a class, went out to lunch and shopping with the long-lost Jess, and the UPS guy actually fucking delivered my package. Yay!
Clubbing this weekend was...interesting.
I was having reservations about going, mainly because my knee had started to act oddly tweaky on Thursday right as I walked into my toning class (I swear I did NOTHING to injure the sucker), and it was slightly less happy than usual during class. I'd skipped going to step class, doing extra workouts beyond my 2-hour minimum, and was taking it easy doing stuff that went sideways in dance class. So reasonably, doing frantic line dance for 2 hours was probably not the best idea, eh? But on the other hand, I didn't want to put my life on hold because my knee felt slightly funny and not even painful either. Besides, on Tuesday and Wednesday I'm not even going to be able to go to the gym for a month, so I'll already have enforced rest time then- why waste the days I can work out before that?
On Saturday night, I was trying to figure out something to wear. The pants I usually wear clubbing I'd managed to get liquor-filled chocolates smeared all over them somehow, so I couldn't wear those. Which is a shame because I have few pairs of pants that will hold the money/ID/keys-type stuff without causing incidents while dancing. I ended up wearing my velvet cargo pants because well, at least those had the pocket space.
The shirt was an even bigger problem. Since I've learned from previous bad experience that wearing a tank top to the Grad = bad results with people coming on to me, I usually try to look for the baggiest T-shirt I can find that doesn't go down to my knees. But I'd evidently worn all the most covering T-shirts that were suitable (since I'm not going to wear "What Boyfriend?" or "I Do Bad Things" out clubbing and ask for even more trouble), or they were dirty, or something, so I was stumped. Unfortunately, most of my shirts suitable for this sort of activity are um... well, boobylicious. Or at least they're stretchy enough for the you-know-whats to be prominent, even if they aren't low-cut. Most of the time I really don't care (I think wearing glasses 24-7 scares off 98% of the men out there to the point where they see the glasses and don't even make it that far down), but for clubbing, um...yikes. But I was out of clothes, so I tried to look for the most blend-in-with-the-walls stretchy black shirt. I ended up with a black scoopnecked one I've had for ages, and hoped for the best.
Um, didn't happen.
There's one fellow Heather and Chris know who's a regular there, who came over to the apartment with them one time while I was there. I'd seen him around there once since then, but he didn't recall who I was at the time. Well, this time he's outside when I followed them out to the patio, and ahem, he realllllly likes my outift. Especially the velvet. At which point I thought, "I am NEVER WEARING THIS OUTFIT HERE AGAIN."
And sure enough, he's being fairly buddy-buddy with me throughout the night, and Chris tells me afterwards he was asking about me. Gaaaaaaaaaaaah.
(Folks, don't get your hopes up. Dude is named "Billy Bob." No, really. Very nice bloke, but well, not happening.)
Dancing actually went okay. I didn't have any issues with the knee. Yay! Good thing too, given what I get up to on the dance floor, not to mention trying to figure out how to do the dances I didn't know while watching other people on the crowded dance floor.
Anyway, Billy Bob didn't want to go home after clubbing and said, "Hey, can I come over to y'alls place and get drunk?" Sure, what the hell. So he came over, and our neighbor Brian came over, and we realized that um, we really need more alcohol around here than Chris's supply of Jack and Coke. Especially since he overmixes the two to the point where nobody but him could actually consume it. So we ended up playing "Dirty Whore" (what Heather calls the "I never" game) instead. Heather, to no one's surprise, won the game. But to my surprise, I came in third. What the hell? This, of course, led to drunken Truth or Dare, with Heather whining that she wanted people to do dares and me going "No way in hell." I did, however, dare her to pull out her weirdest um, personal item to show off to people. Heh heh heh. Luckily, the game wound up around 4 a.m., when Billy Bob went home and Chris didn't end up doing the dare to go around to someone whose lights were still on in their apartment and ask them if he could use their bathroom. (Phew.)
But still, I'm totally freaking zonked this weekend. Course, going out clubbing two nights in a row (hell, I have today off) and having to wake up by a certain time every day this weekend has rather sucked. And now I'm too awake to go take a nap. Grr.
I had checked my phone messages around midnight Saturday and found some from Jess, saying she'd picked me up some beads at Disneyland and wanted to get them to me, but she was assuming I was out of town for the weekend. Anyway, after four hours of sleep, I dragged my butt to jewelry class, but called Jess on the way over. After making a memory wire bracelet and a few other half-finished things, I got together with Jess and Julian and we all went out to the yummy Thai place, then hit World Market and bought exotic chocolate foodstuffs, (I also ended up buying some stuffed animals. Yeah, I felt juvenile, but they were cute and cheap.) and then to Safeway for picking up various drinks, since I was about out of water, Mountain Dew, and decent alcoholic beverages. This was the point where Julian kind of lost it- he had been bugging Jess to buy him toys all afternoon, and finally she was all, "You can get something, but only if you use your mind instead of your hands to get it into the cart." Julian interpreted this along the lines of "Use the force, Luke", and got very upset when he couldn't mentally lift an object, and claimed Jess was lying to him, etc., etc. Okay, perhaps that was a bit beyond a six-year-old...
Here's the funny thing: I was wearing my "heterosexual, lover of rainbows" sweatshirt again, and I got waited on by one of our local celebrities, who's famous for his Born Loser column, running for City Council, and working at Safeway. Oddly enough, every time I end up at that Safeway, I have him wait on me. Usually he's pretty cold, and I sort of have the impression he's secretly sneering at me for buying wine coolers. (One of my old CC managers has issues with the guy for commenting on the amount of butter he bought.) But this time he was loving my shirt, pointing out its double meanings, etc. Very friendly. Go figure. Everyone seems to love this shirt. Heh.
I also went clubbing last night, which was much less eventful. I wore one of my work-appropriate shirts out and had no issues (plus Billy Bob wasn't there). There were a lot more stupid drunk people on Sunday night than Saturday night, i.e. idiots who kept bringing their drinks on the dance floor and not moving when they were supposed to, even after the DJ yelled at them three times, and spilled drinks everywhere. Grrr. At least that time I got to bed by 2 a.m. instead of 4:30.
I was having yet another UPS issue. I order Girl Scout cookies through AMK (from 3WA)'s daughter every year, since the cookies are cheaper in Colorado and my local connection dried up. But he decided to send them via UPS... grrrrrr.... and of course, Attempts #1 and #2 went on Thursday and Friday, when I was doing work stuff I couldn't cut all day. Luckily for me, UPS said they'd make the third and last attempt on Monday, a holiday, between 10 a.m. and 5 p.m. Admittedly, this kind of screwed the plans I'd had at 11 to go try out my dance teacher's other workout class (he offers a shorter class during lunches on weekdays, but since the class runs 55 minutes and they're all anal about how we Must Be In The Office Right On Time At 1 P.M. and I'd have to change clothes a lot just to go and it's a 5-minute walk to the class, I normally don't go), but I could actually BE home.
But this time, I had a plan. Since I know from unfortunate fact that UPS does NOT knock on my goddamned door even if I'm home, I figured I would simply have to sit outside my front door for as long as it took for them to come. Which is insane, yes, but what else could I do? I tried looking into changing the address to ship the package to, but UPS now only allows you to change the address as long as it's local. (And if I had another address to ship to, I would have had it shipped there already.)
So I got up at about 9:40, got dressed, packed a backpack with my knitting and a bunch of books, made sure I peed ahead of time and didn't bring a drink with me, and parked myself on a bench in front of our complex. At first, it was actually quite pleasant. It's been pouring rain or looking like it's going to for a week now, but there was an actual sunny moment.
And then of course, after about a half hour, it started raining again. So I was forced into sitting on the cold floor of my hall among the cigarette butts. But the UPS guy showed up at 11, and I ran him down and got the package! Yay! I wasn't sitting out there till 5 p.m.!
And now it's 2 p.m., and I need to go hit the other grocery store for the stuff I forgot to get yesterday (i.e. drinks for volunteer night, more food), and hit the gym, and stuff like that.
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