I was asked to go Boogie this evening. As in go to a dance club. This will either be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, or the weirdest thing, or the most insane thing. I’m guessing a combo of all three. If you want Blogging Mama to dance, you are going to have to feed her copious amounts of alcohol. If you feed her copious amounts of alcohol you can be guaranteed she will dance.
So really, win-win either way!
Have I mentioned I haven’t been in a dance club since my 21st birthday? Which as we all know was eons ago…
Considering I’ve been in bed no later than ten every night (last night the only exception at 10:30) I have no idea how I’m going to survive since we aren’t even meeting until 8. Here’s the fun part though. The club is a 70’s club as in like that bell bottom free love type of thing. (That is the 70’s right? Sorry I was born in the late 70’s. Give me yuppie penny loafer 80’s and then I’ll know what to expect). I’m not planning to dress the part.
No way, no how. (Though I did receive some lovely suggestions. I don’t even want to know how Tony knew that a mini-skirt, fishnets tights and big hair would be appropriate. What happens in your house, should stay in your house, alright?) Jeans, heels and an appropriate but un-generational black top will be just fine thanks.
It will be interesting.
When was the last time you shook your over-the-correct-age booty? Or are you smarter than me and do you stay home with your flannel pjs and a good book?