Dungeon Swap Meet Sock Monkey
Saturday Night was the Enigma Invasion of Dungeon. I bought a red shirt the other day that I thought I'd wear, but it wasn't working for me, so I went with an old stand-by outfit.
Rebecca helped out a great deal by spiking my hair with hair glue. That stuff is miraculous. It dries rapidly and turns rock hard. If I had head-butted you, you would have bled to death.
Before hitting the club, we went to Nova Express for a little bite to eat. The food was great, and I'm already addicted to their Black Dot smoothie. We were at a table near a front window, and it was interesting to see people walking past the place. A few of them were obviously not locals and they'd stop and just stare inside. Rebecca casually floated the idea of holding the wedding there. Haha! Wait. Hmmm... Yeah. It's just crazy enough to work. Anyway, on to Hollyweird.
Naturally, it began with waiting in line as the club opened. We were engaged in conversation by the drunken lout behind us. He was roughly my age and had a beer can in his hand as he swayed back and forth, supported by his date. He poked me in my shoulderblade and complimented me on my hair. At least he tried to. He didn't get very far before he had commented on my grey hair and generally heaped backhanded compliments on me until I wanted to slug him. He asked my age, and I took some small satisfaction in being younger than he (although the satisfaction is tempered by the fact that he had assumed I was older). He went on to discuss: his job as an insurance salesman, his recent divorce and his young son. We were very relieved to hear from his own lips that he was going to fuck his date and not either of us. I believe the comment was directed at Becca, but since he had spent most of his time ineptly flirting with me, it's hard to tell. As for his date, I found it hard not to say something like, "You're neither congenitally deformed nor obviously insane, why are you with this schmuck?" Later, I spotted him stumbling about the dancefloor with his girl encircled in a sloppy bearhug.
Other than that, though, I had a great time once we had finally made it in. Ran into the first gaggle of three-lettered folks: Ray/Deb/Pat. Went in to get a drink, and noticed that
xianvox was unexpectedly (to me) pressed into service to DJ the back room. Of course, as soon as we get our drinks, the next ten people show up in a huge group and swarm into the smoking patio, where no drinks are allowed. Anyway, we all managed to bump into each other in time, and with rolling personnel holding down one of the booths, we had a base of operations for storming the Dungeon. Becca and I kept up the program of Dance/Go outside to cool off/Come inside to sit and shout/Repeat. Aaron's already logged his own remiscence, so there's no need to discuss his problems with authority in the post-election world.As I predicted to
therrin, the dance floor got pretty crowded as the night wore on. If you had stood stock still, you would still have been bumped by frenzied dancers in either room. If you were a bit frenzied yourself, there was a great deal of bump and be-bumped. I had a good time.Next morning, Becca and I struggled out to the Rose Bowl Flea Market. We've gone a couple times in the past, and never find anything. This time, we came away with two small treasures (though we were really looking for a small table and a hatrack). We got an Old Mr. Boston Bartender's Guide from 1935. It came out shortly after Prohibition ended, so the book is intended to help the citizens of America learn how to make drinks again (and advertise Old Mr. Boston booze (still available from Barton)). A steal at $10 at the flea market. The other item was a 1912 issue of Scientific American with zeppelins and airships on the cover.
We got back, and then I spent some quality time watching football, drinking beer and napping.
We had a brief visit from Em & Obaid, since they were down here to help celebrate Eid. Contrary to that link, Eid was not certain to be on the 14th, since the date depends on the actual first sighting of the crescent moon. More holidays should be tied to astronomical observations.
Late Sunday night I finished reading Sock, by Penn Jillette. It's, um, a crime novel written from the perspective of, um, a sock monkey. It's a stunt (for more reasons than just the sock monkey bit) but it's reasonably entertaining & a quick read. Penn unloads his sarcasm on various aspects of modern society - sometimes it's delicious, sometimes it sounds like it's coming from a crazy streetcorner atheist/skeptic.
