so, yeah, last night
The boyfriend was slated to play records at Club Havana from 11-1. I wasn't sure if I was going to attend or not due to the baby's bout with diarrhea and diaper rash yesterday. However, by 10 p.m., the baby was nestled into bed, gastrointestinal system intact and subdued and his “wee-wee” thoroughly coated with Balmex.
We got to Havana around 10:30 and hardly anyone was there. Small clusters of Eurotrash were nestled about but looked uninterested (surprise) in the house music that Black Mike was playing.
Slowly but surely, the usual suspects began to show up:
Entertaining moments of the evening happened when a young man walked in wearing the same “KINGSTON” shirt as me. It was very strange. I started to get a teensy bit nervous when I noticed that he and a large woman who I would never hope to mess with were pointing at me and my shirt and looking generally pissed off. It was such a silly affair. However, the general concensus was that I looked better in the shirt since I have boobs that stretch out the KINGSTON lettering and that guy, well, didn't.
I ran into this guy who used to be a rather prolific member of the pb-cle-raves scene but is now just sort of a drunk. He was always very into the pyschedelics and the alcohol. In fact, I don't think I've ever had a conversation with him that didn't end with him saying either, “I'm on so much acid right now,” or “I'm so fucking drunk.” He stunk of Yuengling and spoke in one run-on sentence, pausing only to burp into my ear. I felt kind of bad. It's like you encounter people who aren't quite the crusty old drunks who sit at bars and talk shit, but the only thing holding them back is their age.
Ack, it's 5 o'clock!
More later, perhaps.
