shimweasel

Thanks to PeteG for coming out to one of the silliest gigs I’ve ever attended. I only wish I’d made it to the first two sets as well, they were fun, in a deeply retarded Kenny-Rogers-on-angrypills kind of way. (Your trenchant social insights might have been lost on the girls in the cowboy hats, however.)

Extra special bonus: the crazy old guy who dances chicken-style at Jackie Orszaczky gigs was there too. Scary stuff.

Dancefloor interaction is still a little odd. I was dancing sort-of-with and sort-of-next-to a girl, and some guy came up to me, asked if I was interested, and told me she was a surgeon. I said something non-committal, assuming that I was being warned off and that his posse of angry friends were right outside (remember, you have gangs of pipe-hitting niggas, posses of shotgun-wielding rednecks, and whinges of blogwriting whiteboys. Aren’t collective nouns fun?) Anyway, he leant over to her, whispered something in her ear, and she laughed and moved to another section of the floor.

I’m still a little mystified. Is surgeon some kind of code word, or did I just pass up the opportunity to talk to a pretty girl with enough brains to be able to cut people open without killing them? I guess I’ll never know…