It says at the top of the page to “add media,” but I can’t because I dropped my phone in the toilet of the “ladies” room at Rusty’s Surf Ranch where Jay’s band the Weasels was playing last night. The agony of it is that I was on day 29 of my sugar-free/wine-free/grain-free detox. Meaning I was stone-cold sober. No fries. No wine. In the e-book “How to Party Sober,” one of the suggestions is to go sit somewhere quiet LIKE THE LADIES ROOM and read for a minute if you get bored. I thought I’d just have a little tinkle and read a bit of Amy Schumer’s book on my phone. Good plan, but what idiot puts their huge, heavy bag on top of the toilet as they struggle out of their jeans that are too tight for someone their age anyway, (but I wore them because I can and I DON’T CARE).
So there I am, jeans around knees, when I hear this thud and turn around to see my black bag falling over into the disgusting bowl. Fuck,fuck,fuckity,fuck. I stuck my naked hand into the grossness to retrieve my phone and Arbonne lip gloss, two pens, my MOLESKIN and my nasal spray. I threw them all away except the phone and the moleskin. The good news was that Jay’s phone didn’t fall out. Good band wife. Anyway– no phone. I WILL retrieve the Weasel videos and leak them to you.
Best part of night: Dancing. You know what? Even if you pretend to be drunk, it doesn’t work, and I did not float like a gazelle. It turns out my authentic self is not that great a dancer. However– I did dance a rigid lurching side-to-side step I call the lady shuffle, and I lived. It was a pretty cool. The Weasels epitomize the spirit of if you want to do something, do it. Age is not an excuse. I’ll retrieve those videos from my phone. Stand by.