Britpop Dance Night

Photostrips from the Lo-Fi photobooth (one of these days I will drag Dean along!):

This past Thursday, both rooms were open in celebration of the DJ’s birthday. The organ lounge spun records by Roxy Music, Blondie, and T-Rex. The discoball room played Pulp, Blur, and Le Tigre. Not strictly Britpop, but strictly AWESOME. It’s the birthday bash I have always dreamt of for myself so I spent most of the evening trying not to explode from happiness. We hopped between decades and I avoided the restroom line by sweating out whiskey on the dancefloor (a disgusting but handy trick I also employ at music shows). It was maybe the best night out I’ve ever had in Seattle and I only regret having to leave at the reasonable hour of midnight.

Flashy-flash! Arabella and I have twice subjected ourselves to the Champagne Supernova drink special. It’s nothing against the bartender, it’s the ill-feeling that comes from dancing with a blob of jello in your guts. I’ll undoubtedly order it again though, like a fool who loves theme nights… Also worth noting: my male friends do not drink. No liquid courage for them, they’re just totally rad.

I don’t know any of those people in the front but I have a fuzzy memory of singing ‘Happy Birthday’ with them to Paco (the guy in the front-middle and beloved DJ of Thursday nights). In the harsh light of day, I am an awkward introvert but not on a night like this.

…And this made me smile the following morning
Ian: Man, my ass is killing me.
Me: What? Why?
Ian: Because I danced my ass off last night!

2 thoughts on “Britpop Dance Night

  1. Congratulaions on your Blogiversary!

    This sounds like a brilliant night out, but I would probaly get drunk and rowdy and demand Elastica, and sneer at any Oasis songs that came on :)

    And thanks for your comment, but I already knew you had an awesome day job! Mine is somewhat less exciting but at least I admit that I have one! Unless I’ve somehow managed to follow a bunch of millionaire bloggers, everyone else seems not to even mention the W-word, or else proclaim themselves “self-taught designers.” I am suspicious.

    • Despite having a drink named in their honor, I don’t think I’ve ever heard an Oasis song at dance night! I will definitely request Elastica and Sleeper next time- there aren’t enough cheeky women on rotation. I bet you’d be fun to hang out with drunk and rowdy. :)

      The job itself isn’t always exciting (though there are some pretty great moments amidst the office tasks) but the company totally rules. And yeah! I sometimes feel a tinge of jealousy seeing everyone’s free, sunny photos. Aren’t some of them desk-bound during winter’s short sunlight hours?

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