My social life seems to have gone a bit crazy again with nights having to be double-stacked. Last night was a quick drink with a friend followed by a double dance class, tonight is a private dance lesson followed by the once-a-month Distraction Club. I always end up missing the first 40mins of DC, as I have to head back into Town from Westbourne Park – but I wont miss dance. Continue reading Distraction Club, Prefaced by Dancing
The First Tuesday of every month is always a busy one – usually *just* a double stacked night, but this time it was a triple stacked night ~ how can it be that my life is so busy that I have to fit three events into one evening??
There can’t be (m)any people that can make up a rap on the spot with given subjects of Mr Bean; The Undertaker’s unbeaten record; cow caesarian; Elmo and anaphylactic shock.
Not just brilliant, but hilarious at the same time. Absolute genius.
This is my Rufus Hound hand … I’ll leave that with you for a short while, while you get “WTAF you freak!” Out of your head ~ don’t judge me, well not yet anyway. I’m sure you’ll be aghast in less than five.
Rufus Hounds headlined at the Christmas Distraction Club tonight – he was unquestionably brilliant, utterly brilliant – talented beyond doubt doing improv – he is hilarious too … I’m getting a little gushy it’s true, but, gah, he was!
He also took his top off during a song, I didn’t take a picture, no not “a” picture, five, yes.
After the show he hung around and mingled with the crowd chatting away ~ it is at this point he grabbed my hand. Well grab might be a *little* excessive ~ “held my hand and said thank you” … clearly he is now, upon meeting me, currently divorcing his wife and will be knocking at my door in seconds … pauses … might be a wee tad stuck in traffic …
I declare instantly that I’m never washing my hand again and walk home with my right hand pointing upwards like the Queen immobilised mid wave. As soon as I get home I wash my hand, cause it’s ridiculous … well after I took a picture of course.
This is the hand that Rufus Hound held! … and that’s not easy to say.
I can’t begin to describe Christmas 2014’s Distraction Club, there are just not enough adjectives and hyperboles to just get across what a bloody brilliant night it was. Act after act, after act performed. We laughed, we roared, we sang, we squealed* (* I did). The merry band of DC’ers. By the end of the night there was barely enough room on the stage to fit everyone for the finale.
And I met the adorable man in the tiger, open-fronted catsuit, whom Helen and I both “admire” for a reason or two.
And *Then* I met Rufus Hound and he held my hand… for about a half a Mississippi, but held it he did!
It was one of those nights after which you skip on home and can’t sleep because you’re smiling so much.
How on earth did this happen, how the hell did I just turn 41?!
I don’t feel that age, most people would probably argue I don’t act it either, which is just fine with me! It’s my birthday week and it’s time to rack-up the birthday-do’s, starting right here with Distraction Club.
Another fabulously hilarious night with Heather, Nick, Helen, Dave and Laura, with the added bonus of a couple of guys from my old company (Bob and Matt), laughing at inappropriate humour and having the whole club sing happy birthday to me.
Special night, great night. Birthday Do part 1, done.
So tonight consisted of dancing to the point of collapse; laughing* (*cackling) until I ached to my core… and friends, very good friends.
It’s that special first Tuesday of the month where I’m double stacking the night between fitsteps and distraction club, zinging between Liverpool St, Highbury, Oxford St and Crouch End. But to miss out one just wouldn’t be the same.
Fitsteps: waltz, quickstep, samba, *gasping*, foxtrot, cha cha cha, jive, *pleas for forgiveness*, tango ~ slinking, gliding, hip-action, pose, transitions, going in the right direction, going in the wrong, kicks, flicks; doing stuff to words I don’t understand … bottacha (or something akin to that); sweating, lots of sweating… and narrowly missing being knocked over by a set of quickstepping men!
Done >> Oxford Street and Distraction Club (DC).
It consisted of acting out various knee-etiquette scenarios (including slide-in-and-spread); talking to a woman in the toilet about her non-bra protected side-boob and the risk of escapage; howling at various songs about ex-relationships and their painful demise; being lofted to the air by a man (the fuck) … I screamed; frightening people with a long forgotten Geordie accent … and most of that was just in the breaks.
’twas a good good night!