We have Moose (but no Squirrel)

Despite my cold, I went out to the Smiling Moose last night like I usually do. I was medicated, which enabled me to breathe. This has been a strange virus, though not for its severity, thankfully. It is strange in that I am lacking in most of the symptoms usually associated with a cold; while I have been sneezing and my sinuses have been congested, my throat isn't sore, my eyes aren't running and I'm not coughing. This is by no means a complaint, in fact, for being diseased I am otherwise thrilled that I can medicate, clear up my nose and feel pretty much fine, aside from a bit of fatigue.

In any case, I thought that bonamoz's sets were excellent last night, though I kept the early dancing to an absolute minimum between worrying about wearing myself out and being distracted by the film on the big screen behind the DJ table. Despite feeling up to shakin' my groove thang later on, I still left early because I was tired. I ended up going home and passing out for over twelve hours.

It was a strange vibe last night, I have to admit. While the Moose is consistently filled with patrons, that upstairs room has a different set of people almost every week. One can never tell what groups are going to show up, which must be horribly frustrating for the DJs. While there are a few regulars who appear weekly, I suspect that most of the other people filling out the venue are those who have wandered up from downstairs after whatever band who was playing that week finished up or those who have simply wandered in off of the streets of South Side, looking for another location to whet their whistles as it were.

All in all, I'm fine with that...so long as people leave me the hell alone. I don't know what it was last night, but apparently this was too much to ask for. I was dancing to one song and some skinny girl comes up and starts dancing with me. First off, she should have put her drink down before she came onto the dance floor - such things are an accident waiting to happen (and I have witnessed such accidents happen - it's not fun). Secondly, I had no idea who this girl was and didn't find her attractive in the least. Thirdly, she gave me the distinct impression that she had only invaded my personal space to mock the way I was dancing. Between these three variables, I stopped where I stood and just kind of looked at her with a gaze meant to ask, "who are you? What are you doing? Why don't you go away."

She left not long after that.