Sooo... a story or two for y'all. Wednesday night, after a looooong ass day at work, I met a friend at the Paradise Rock Club in Boston to see the phenomenal Southern Culture on the Skids, as well as Los Straightjackets. The show was fantastic - Los Straightjackets were... well... They only speak spanish. And they wear suits. And Lucha Libre masks. And play instrumental surf guitar rock. And they kicked ass.
SCOTS was similarly excellent. But of course, that's not why I'm here today...
So. I'm standing there with my friend J, drinking a beer, bobbing my head and tapping my feet, when someone bumps into me. I turn to my left, and a girl looks at me and smiles. I promptly drop my beer onto the floor. Then I give one of those not-quite-laughs-more-like-the-cackle-of-a-mental-patient things. I pick up my beer (it was a can, thankfully). Try to drink some. Spill it on my shirt.
Needless to say, she looks mildly terrified and slowly starts to move away from me. And not just because of the puddle of Pabst that is slowly creeping towards her feet.
Eventually, we move to the other side of the club. J is a couple of steps in front of me, getting down and boogying. A different girl is walking past me. I step on her foot by accident. And this was even weirder. She stops, looks at me. I raise my hands and mouth "Sorry 'bout that."
You'd expect that she would either a) nod in acceptance and move on, or b) get pissy. Well, no. She for some reason opted for c) - wrap her arms around me and kiss me on the neck. I backpedaled frantically until I bumped into the bar. She untangles herself, looks at me cockeyed, and walks away. Minutes later, I tell J this story and he says, "You stepped on her foot and she tried to make out with you? Is that all it takes these days?"
Weird. Very, very weird.
Anyway. Happy Memorial Day, everyone.
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