Yesterday was the first Friday of the month, and if you pay any attention to the habits of The June, and what's more appealing than someone who refers to herself in the third person AND adds a "The," on the first Friday of every month I tend to schlep over to Winston-Salem to enjoy First Friday. There is also a First Friday in my OWN town, and it's directly outside Ned's door, but that'd be convenient.
Since my close personal pal Dick Whitman lives in Winston-Salem, I called him to see if he wanted to join us. "I'm with my friend," he said. "We'll meet you there."
Dick Whitman has a friend who I've met a few times, and who Ima advertise on this here blog. In other words, Ima pimp him out. He is single after a rather long relationship, and look! He's cute!
hellooooo, ladies.
Okay, I think possibly a cocktail or two had passed his lips at this point in the evening, but try to picture him sober.
He's looking for someone in her late 30s/early 40s, he is a Quaker minister, and as you can see, this does not mean he has to dress in a frilly collar and large hat.
helloooo, ladies.
I'm just saying. If anyone is interested in Dick Whitman's friend, let me know. Cause he seems like a good guy. More on him later, when he's dancing with a lesbian.
What I forGOT to tell you is before all this First Friday festivity feteing began, and I really wish "began" started with an f, I got home from fake work last night and discovered I had really good mail. The statistics place paid me, which, yay, and also? There was a package.
From my more-successful-than-me-in-every-way pal Miss Doxie.
Which, yay.
It was one of her works of art! She gave me one of her works of art! Because it's not enough that she has the best blog ever and a fancy career and a hot husband and adorable house and that she is THE PRETTIEST EVER, she also has to be good at the drawing and painting and creating and yes I hate her too.
It reads, "Her Royal Highness Madge, queen of all the crap she surveyed."
LOVE IT SO BAD OH I DO!!!!!!
So I was already giddy and chatty and annoying by the time Ned came to get me, and I sound precisely like Tom Waits with this leftover cold, and what's sexier?
(This excellent Tom Waits song may not be safe for, you know, work. Why are you reading this at work? Slacker.) (Actually, the song I picked is not that bad. I wanted to put in the burlesque song but changed mind.)
I was kind of talking as frenetically as Tom Waits is in this song, too, so the person who had a relaxing trip to Winston was Ned. Then when we got to the restaurant, the only place available to sit was on this couch that sort of faced out into the room.
"I've kind of always wanted to sit on the couch," I growled in my I-heart-cigarettes voice. There was this cute couple also sharing the couch with us--he was a black guy with dreads and she was a little screechy but funny white thing in her 20s. She was drinking Maker's Mark on the rocks. I wish I could drink something that manly and no-nonsense. Dick Whitman, perusing the menu, asked us if mojitos were girly.
"Yes," everybody said.
We had the dreads kid take our picture, because it's important we capture on film every moment. I saw something on Facebook recently with a picture of Neil Armstrong on the moon. "Went to moon. Took five pictures" the caption read. Then it showed a girl in the bathroom doing duck face. "Went to bathroom. Took 39 pictures," it read.
Good gravy, The June, can you keep your dang mitts off your man for eight seconds?
Answer: No.
It wasn't long before a DJ started setting up not far from us. "Oh, no," said Ned. "Why do they DO this? This place is wonderful, and they have to ruin it by adding loud music and we'll never be able to talk." In other news, Ned is going to start wearing feathered fedoras while driving .005 miles an hour down the middle of the highway. On his way to his WWII reunion with his buds.
Get off Ned's lawn.
How'sat? Speak up.
As soon as the first song came on, this couple started dancing and I.loved.them. They weren't a particularly lovely couple, and they were probably our age, although they were people of color and they had the whole black-don't-crack thing, so seriously, they could have been Davis and McCoo. At any rate, not young. They were not young.
But oh! How they clearly loved to dance. They danced to every song. They were having a great time. "I love them," said Ned.
"I DO TOO! Look how much fun they're having." I started sort of wishing Ned liked to dance, but he doesn't, and who wants to be seen dancing with old What Inhibitions, over here, anyway?
Then this hot Latin gigolo guy got up and danced dirtily with about 14 different women. He was a SPECTACULAR dancer, and every woman swooned who danced with him. There was one guy on the sidelines, who looked like my friend from Seattle, Rosenberg, and his wife got STOLEN AWAY by the gigolo guy. "Where's Rosenberg?" asked Ned, who's never met my friend Rosenberg in real life even remotely. "Is he aware of how much fun his wife is having right now?"
"Rosenberg totally ordered another appetizer," I noted gravelly-ly, seeing him standing near the dance floor, gobbling a chicken wrap like it was the last meal he'd ever have.
Oh but then. THEN! If that weren't enough, a young cute lesbian girl got up and danced, and motioned to our whole couch to dance with her. "COME ON!" she yelled, and I adored her and her sociable self, and before you know it, our Quaker minister got up and joined her!
The June. Perfecting her dance-floor photography since--oh, screw it. It wasn't long, though, before this hot young blonde girl in a spangly top came up and started making out with the cute dancy lesbian.
"We have the best seats in the whole place," said Ned, who seemed kind of happy.
And it must have been Ned-and-June fantasy night, because seconds later a huge muscular bald man of color got up there with his date, MY NEW BEST FRIEND.
You guys. I LOVED this girl. She was ALL OVER that dance floor, shaking her thang, and she went to the June School of Inhibitions and I WANT HER TO BE MY NEW FRIEND SO BAD I DO.
She danced for so long that eventually hot bald black date sat down--ON OUR COUCH. Remember in Animal House when the girl gets shot through the air into that kid's bedroom and the kid says, "Thank you, God"? Yeah.
"I just want you to know that I am doing my best to not look over there at bald man of color, " I told Ned, who knows I have the thing for bald men of color, and if he didn't know before last night he'd know then, seeing as I was primping and smiling and bending over and presenting like a baboon, so subtle was I.
"Now, see, I'd be in trouble for telling you something like that," said Ned, who was 100% right.
"But, see, I'm telling you that I'm TRYING NOT TO LOOK. Doesn't that count for something?"
Eventually I got a little...verklempt and had to retire to the rest room to put cold water on my pulse points, and when I returned?
Ned. Dancing with the cute lesbian girl!
I have never been so amused in my life. "How'd she get you to do it?" I wondered. "She came over and said, 'Your girlfriend? Is so. lucky.'"
And I am.
