Get your dance out

So last night, after I posted about being all dressed up with nowhere to go.  I decided to go back out. So, I dressed down:  (white American Apparel T, black cardigan, Jeans, flats) and headed back downtown with just my i.d. and $10.

I did something shameful.  --this wont really make sense to you unless you are familiar with Athens, Ga and the hierarchy of bars-- I went to BarCode.  I guess to elaborate, I'd describe barcode as a place where you only go if you have a TERRIBLE fake i.d. or if you're trying to pick up way-too-young/way-too-drunk sorority girls.  It's basically a joke.  But they were having a dance party, and I wanted to go to a "top 40" kind of cheesy dance party where I could "get my dance out" as Sam and I have been saying recently.

When I handed the door guy my i.d. he looked shocked.  Like maybe it was the first legit i.d. he'd gotten from a girl all week.  He went to stamp my hand to signify my age.  Now, you don't know this about me, but I hate being written on.  So I stopped him and told him i'd rather just have my license handy. He started going on and on about how it's his job. Blah blah blah.  At which point I made note of the fact that I was sure he wouldn't get into trouble for NOT stamping someone who IS old enough as opposed to... you know, stamping someone who isn't old enough.    

He looked at me like I was a genius, or crazy, I'm not sure which... So I winked when I passed him and headed to where the party was before he could say anything else.  I mean, hey.  It's valentine's day.  What's a night of dancing without winking?! 

Inside I'd say that there were probably 150 people milling about, most of them dancing in sparkly, sequined numbers, so I shoved my id back in my pocket and started in on dancing.  And it was awesome. Although I was probably the oldest person there by 4-5 years.  Not to mention not at all sparkly or sequined.

I had a couple of dudes and one under-dressed & under-aged chick start trying to dance with me, but I was having none of it, I'd just migrate whenever they got too close to me, and after about 30 minutes, no one bothered me.  It was the perfect way to spend an hour.  Everyone was already all paired up and I was just surrounded by a bunch of people dancing to awesomely bad remixes and other assorted top 40 songs.

But when I got home I found a couple of things:  

1) a phone number. with a note that says: "you wont dance with me, wtf"  but no name 

2) rolled into said number was a 20$ bill.  I should hope that this poor fella didn't mean to leave me his $20... but whatever I'm obviously keeping it.

So I'm spending that 20$ on some new music to have a "get my dance out" party at my house.  Or Brunch.  Probably Brunch to eat away the shame of having gone to Barcode.

Yesterday, Oh Yesterday

There's something about certain songs that I can't resist when I'm in certain states of mind/body.

For instance:  When I'm cold or need to calm down, I like Bon Iver's Skinny Love or Manchester Orchestra's I Can Feel a Hot One. When I'm hot I like to listen to pretty much any  Jamie Lidell song.  When I need a pick me up, I'm always good for Joe Purdy's Just Cant Get it Right Today I know, it doesn't make sense, but that song makes me happy.

And perhaps most embarrassingly when I'm overly upbeat or a little bit tipsy...  I love Hanson.  Yes. Hanson.  No Mmm Bop though (cause that would be silly).  Mostly from their "underneath" album (which... I don't know if that's good or bad... probably bad.) Last night I was reminded of this when Sam, Keith and I decided to split 3 pitchers of Margaritas.  Yeah.  Never let your tipsy husband convince your already drunk brain that one more pitcher is a "challenge."  Cause challenge or no, one pitcher per person is NO GOOD.

That being said, when Drunk-Corie got home from the Mexican fiesta that led to a quick siesta, she put on Hanson really loud and danced around in her underwear and some galoshes.  Yep.  I'm not sure why exactly I had on the galoshes, but I think it had something to do with just prior to the dancing about when I was walking my dogs.  Dear god I hope I had on pants while walking the dogs. 

Remembering that this morning (oh wow. this morning) I was reminded of a fateful summer afternoon in which I was doing mostly the same thing (but with pants on).  I was totally ROCKING out.... to a hanson song.  In my car, windows down.  A girl with mousy brown hair pulls up next to me, watches me for a second, then pulls up her arm as though she's about to flick me off for being such  crazy Hanson freak.  

But to my surprise, on her wrist... where most people would have a watch... was the Hanson "logo."

The girl was a walking, singing, breathing, arm-swinging billboard.  HOT DAMN.  I am cooler than one person. 

Bed Time?

It's Thursday.  I don't have to work tomorrow. It's  not even 8:30 yet.  But I'm pondering going to bed.  Yep, I'm a 24-year-old 75-year-old.  Thank you Bakery.

Keith just headed off to his nighttime job at a local bar, and I'm turning in for the evening with a cat in my lap and Bon Iver blaring through the house.  Have you listened to Bon Iver?  I suppose it's no surprise that I'm sleepy.  Their music is dreamlike.  Sort of muddled and cold, like you're listening to it underwater in the winter. 

That's also why I love it.  It makes me think of running full-force into the ocean in the dead of winter.  I always listen to it, close my eyes and inevitably end up rocking back and forth.  

It's rare that I listen to something other than audio books and french speakers when I'm at home by myself and can listen to anything I want.  But this has eeked into my solo night-time life slowly and smoothly.  It's a lullaby you fall asleep inside of, then dream the night away with.

Nightcap time!  I'm off to run into the ocean (bathtub).