So, here's the thing...no joke...out isn't something I have done on any sort of a regular basis since before Sebi was born (he is six). Going out to the Burlesque Cabaret on Saturday night was also the daughter's first babysitting gig "for real" at night. So, as much as I passed it off as though I just do such things every day, make no mistake...
It was an EVENT.
The fucking Clocktower Cabaret is full of my peeps man. Underground, underbelly, sexy, funny, kitschy, intelligent, HAWT alternative punk rock LOVE and music.
We had fun:
And met some drunken passerby just a strolling down the street sporting a pretzel necklace:
Which he donated to my girlfriend:
Those are the only pictures that turned out, with any sort of unblurred faces, my friend Ryan (that tall skinny guy with the glasses - brother from another mother) informed me...but clearly a good time was had by all.
You see, my husband and I, we made a pact when we found out our boy was brewing inside, that one of us is ALWAYS home for the kids. He works graveyard for this, I work corporate America daytime, but the minute I come home he goes to bed and the minute he gets home I leave for work...we live like energy ghosts in the same house. We pass each other in half hour increments and try to cram in the pertinent information during that time...until the next interlude.
Saturday nights have suddenly and quite miraculously become the one night during the week when we can share space and time. And as it turns out, all these people really want to hang out with us and consistently invite us to happenings about town. The problem is, previously, I was just too goddamned tired and uninspired and then there is this thing I have about hating people.
But I really like these people.
This is MY Island of Misfit Toys - and so we have deemed ourselves.
And I really dig the shit they are involved in and invite us to.
And apparently the time has come that we get somewhat of a glimpse of life and fun and kitsch again.
And I dig this.
This reintroduction to oneself.
It is like rebirth isn't it?
Sort of like the turning of the leaves into Autumn in this, our, Colorado.
It was an EVENT.
The fucking Clocktower Cabaret is full of my peeps man. Underground, underbelly, sexy, funny, kitschy, intelligent, HAWT alternative punk rock LOVE and music.
We had fun:
And met some drunken passerby just a strolling down the street sporting a pretzel necklace:
Which he donated to my girlfriend:
Those are the only pictures that turned out, with any sort of unblurred faces, my friend Ryan (that tall skinny guy with the glasses - brother from another mother) informed me...but clearly a good time was had by all.
You see, my husband and I, we made a pact when we found out our boy was brewing inside, that one of us is ALWAYS home for the kids. He works graveyard for this, I work corporate America daytime, but the minute I come home he goes to bed and the minute he gets home I leave for work...we live like energy ghosts in the same house. We pass each other in half hour increments and try to cram in the pertinent information during that time...until the next interlude.
Saturday nights have suddenly and quite miraculously become the one night during the week when we can share space and time. And as it turns out, all these people really want to hang out with us and consistently invite us to happenings about town. The problem is, previously, I was just too goddamned tired and uninspired and then there is this thing I have about hating people.
But I really like these people.
This is MY Island of Misfit Toys - and so we have deemed ourselves.
And I really dig the shit they are involved in and invite us to.
And apparently the time has come that we get somewhat of a glimpse of life and fun and kitsch again.
And I dig this.
This reintroduction to oneself.
It is like rebirth isn't it?
Sort of like the turning of the leaves into Autumn in this, our, Colorado.
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
jonas_thorazine:
You're the best. 
jonas_thorazine:
I'm (obviously?) in an emotional way tonight, but that top pic made me all weepy-happy. Good for you, girl.