I found it only fitting to write my first post while nursing a hangover. I’m currently at Albina Press trying to act like a normal person, while chugging a $2.75 sparkling water and trying not to rub my face too much.
I went to soul night at the Eagles lodge yesterday. It happens every first Friday on 49th and Hawthorne thanks to DJ Cooky Parker and this fantastic “Bouncer” who is an old man with a cowboy hat, a bluetooth and a sassy attitude. I both like him/fear him because he always catches me with my drink on the dance floor which is a pretty big no-no for the old Eagletonians. They are in fact, really old, but man can they make a stiff greyhound.
Soul night at the Eagles lodge is my favorite thing on Earth because the place looks like a 50’s high school prom complete with, you guessed it, Eagle memorabilia everywhere. I also happen to really like soul music because as a white lanky girl, who is awkward with her body on most occasions, it’s pretty easy music to dance too. You just kind of jostle yourself around the dance floor and you don’t even have to move your legs and arms at the same time if you don’t want to. It’s perfect.
Last night was especially pleasant for me. I don’t know if it was my polka dot crop top or my side pony tail but the fellas were digging it, and I got to participate in some consensual groping on the dance floor. Thanks “Tony?”
Of course I have no photos of me grind dancing to Buddy Holly or flailing around onstage like an intoxicated ex-Rockette to prove to you that this, in fact happened. You will just have to take my word for it that I actually got out of my Urban Outfitters sweatpants, set down the ol’ needlepoint and did something cool this weekend. Here’s a pre-event side pony and crop top photo for reference.
milky feelings 