I'm Your Private Dancer...

Those of you on Facebook may have realised that, last night, I was A) Out, B) Getting Drunk, C) Dancing, and D) Getting Drunk.

We were out celebrating Kellys 30th birthday - no, not MY girlie girl, that's Kellie.  Kelly is Kerrys brother Kevins wife.  Kerry is Kellies best friend.  Kelly is Kerrys sister in law.

Yes, I know...

Now, I've never made any illusions that I am anything but an uncouth, style-free, fashion victim with the body of a saggy walrus after a binge-eating session.  Which means, that when I get "dressed up" to go out, I look like the afore-mentioned saggy walrus in a potato sack.  I'm quite happy to let the group wander off into the wilds of the mythical place known as "Dance Floor" and guard drinks, coats and whatnot.

However, Kellie, Kerry and James decided tonight I would dance.  I claim I seriously poo-poo'd.  Yes yes, I know now.

Before we even left I had a couple of drinks.  When we got to Kerrys, I had a couple of drinks.  When we got to Chicago's, I had a, er, couple more drinks.  As time ticked on, and the place got more and more crowded, they struck.  The three of them, like the Stygian Witches with their powers of fore-sight, ganged up on me and dragged me to the wilds of "Dance Floor"

Were this Hollywood, I shocked them all with my rhythm, my moves, busting shapes and whatnot.  Everyone would have stood around and watched me breakdancing and skilfully throwing myself around to gasps of amazement and wonder.

No, that's not what happened I'm afraid.  I probably more resembled a large saggy walrus in a potato sack, being held up by a short gorgeous girl.  It possibly looked like I was giving myself the Heimlich Manoeuvre.  However, I was in"Dance Floor" with it's native residents, and I was there for a while too.

Go me.

Eventually, Kellie decided she didn't like that song (whatever it was) so we went back to MY native land of "Bar" where a "couple" more drinks were consumed.  Now well on the road to Slightly Tipsy, the music shifted, from random stuff that appears in the charts, then vanishes into the depths of oblivion, to music I A) KNEW and B) LIKED.

That's when the Stygian Witches looked on in awe, as I took Kellies hand, and muttered something like "Right..." and I took HER to the land of "Dance Floor"

No, I didn't produce another Hollywood moment, but I DID go there of my own free will.  The saggy walrus went there and did his Heimlich thing.

We had a bloody excellent night.  Would go back to Chicagos in Basildon again, possibly dance as well - provided there is sufficient alcohol.  My only "complaint" would be for somewhere named "Chicago's Rock Cafe" they played somewhere in the region of ZERO rock songs.  And no, James, Whitney Houston is NOT "rock" 

Bless him.

On the bright side, despite having a couple of drinks, I woke up Hangover Free as usual!

Newer Post Older Post

One Response to “I'm Your Private Dancer...”

Posh Totty said...

Dancing like you were giving yourself the Heimlich Manoeuvre has left an interesting imagine in my mind ... trying very hard not to laugh !!