I spent about 1.5 hours editing a graduate school paper for a friend today. Can’t get enough of that red ink and the strikethrough feature.
Mid-afternoon, Robert went to the spa for a while, and I folded the laundry, made the filling for the bruschetta, and sliced the mozzarella cheese and tomatoes in preparation for tonight’s dinner.
Robert returned from the spa and the grocery store at 5:00, <TMI>where he found me “all worked up” waiting for him. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!</TMI>
He had a big ole Baguette with him. And some bread, too. Ba-dump, bump. We’re here all week folks.
Country Nights started up at CCs tonight, but it was rather lame.
Right at 7:00, me, Carl, Robert and Rick were there. They only opened half of the bar, and had no lights on at all on the dance floor. The DJ that was “advertised” never did show up I don’t believe. Eventually John-Paul came, and took charge.
While we waited over an hour for that, they did let us play free pool, and gave us free popcorn, both of which we appreciated.
There were less than 10 people in the bar other than the dancers, with Tony, Van, and Ross arriving some time after 8:00.
It was hot as shit dancing in there, and there are no paper towels in the restrooms. Try wiping the sweat off the back of your neck with one of those electric heat-blowing dryers that hang on the wall.
John-Paul was very nice, though, and seems like he’s really interested in giving this a chance to succeed. I’m doubtful at this point, but will give it another try next Sunday night.
“Jim” introduced himself to me, and said, “I think you are a great, great dancer,” which warmed my heart. He added, “I wish I could dance. It looks so sexy.”
He’s funny, though; I’ve seen him a thousand times at Flex. He said, “Now, if I see you in 3 days, and I don’t remember your name, don’t take it personally; I’m terrible with names.”
We left there at about 10:00, and went to Flex, where it was quite festive, and we proceeded to get shit-faced.
Joe, Brian, Carl, Craig, and Van were there, amongst the “regular scaryoke crooners” — and of course, Tula Box, who had on her “I Love New York Fucking City” t-shirt.
Joe, Robert, and I stopped at Shanghai Express on the way home. Yum!