Everything's comin' up Cooley

Once upon a time I was spoiled in having a guaranteed good show every week. Mondays were for Madahoochi. Times were good, and music was plentiful. But then, tragedy strikes! Two members of the band packed up and moved to Florida, and life became cold and dark. Where ever would I go to get my jam on? There was no one able to fill the void that Madahoochi has left in my soul. Luckily it turned out all was not lost, as the band still gets back together to rock the house every few months. It's not quite the same as those good ol' days at what became my regular bar among the regular fans, but it is enough to get me by while I search for a replacement scene. Last night it was time for Cooley & Company at the Bottleworks. I have to admit that I went in with low expectations; not because of any failings of the band, but rather the limitations of the space. I feel that it is really not well set up in a way that is conducive to large crowds of frenzied dancers as the stage / floor area is fairly small. I planned to go anyway, of course, as I have to take my Madahoochi where I can get it. I only invited a few people, as I was feeling lazy and discouraged, but somehow it turns out that things then started going my way. First nearly everyone I invited then invited people of their own in turn, and some of those people invited people, until there was a great big degrees of separation mish-mash of friends. It enabled me to be quite more of a social butterfly than I was anticipating. I also bumped into a few guys I know from other shows, so I ended up feeling pretty darn popular. Then in the midst of my fluttering about I somehow found myself with some prime dancing real estate when the Taco Guy moved out of the way to deliberately open a space for me to dance directly in front of the stage. I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by. I proceeded to do my thing, which is to dance like no one is watching, only apparently people were watching cause girls started commenting on my moves*. It didn't register until the next morning that these comments were also a type of opportunity and that maybe I could have talked to them. That would have required a situational awareness that I simply do not have. I continued on, oblivious, dancing and fluttering the night away, deftly moving along to the music and dodging the girl who little by little dropped her drink. Extra dancing on the encore song, when they killed the place with a James Brown cover. Nothing like a funky jam ftw.

*Also, I had a lady comment on my shirt. I couldn't come up with anything cool to wear, so I thought I'd just throw on a t-shirt from this band Public Property that played with Hoochi one time. Usually I am against wearing band shirts to shows, but I decided this time I didn't care, plus they're kind of related. Two or three guys there noticed and commented or nodded as well, in the realm of "hey, I know that band." And you know, talkin' about bands? That's something I can deal with. But ladies askin' me if I really am public property? Um... don't exactly know what to say to that. Gotta be careful going out wearing anything the least bit risque. Mental note: only bring out the Cuddle Slut shirt when I'm feeling extra thick-skinned and sassy.