Damn, I need another kick in the pants.
The aforementioned Saturday night – I’m SO GLAD my friend called me – hereafter known as La Gay (more on that later) – I went to Bardot alone to see a band, but the DJ was playing tame music and it was taking for.eh.VER for the band to set up. I’m fearless and all, but I don’t like being in that kind of restless setting without a companion. I’ll go back one day, but with a good friend in tow.
So I joined my good friend La Gay at The Abbey. And I’m starting to realize that I’ve probably never mentioned The Abbey on this blog yet, and for that, I should be flogged. Yes, flogged. By Naomi Campbell.
I EFFIN’ LOVE THE ABBEY!!! There are plenty of other super-enjoyable gay bars in Los Angeles, but for me personally, The Abbey is the best. There’s never any door trippin’, their martinis are the best martinis in the history of martinis (I have yet to finish one straight up), the DJs are always on point, and the food is awesome should you get a hankering for some. I joined La Gay and a guy he had met and a couple of his friends for some great fun and partying – I swear, I had never seen that club so packed. But I didn’t let that stop me from dancing like I usually do.
How do I usually dance? I’m glad you asked, and I will tell you how I usually dance: as if I had lost my mind. I flail, I get up in the air and on the ground, I grind, jump, throw elbows, headbang, and don’t even get me started on when my favorite songs come on. I’m a machine, a black hole of energy sucking all into my sweaty singular point. I’m an animal, I have no coherent thought – only a primal impulse to move. Oh yeah baby. And that’s how my 3/13/2010 turned out, praise God.