Because, you know, writing reviews for hot "new" nightspots is what I do.

Well, maybe not.

And the hot "new" nightspot isn't even new.

In fact? it's positively OLD. But nonetheless HOT.

So we finally made it out to The Sky Room and wow did we have a nice time. As expected, the food was super expensive (which would be why we didn't order any) but the drinks at the bar really weren't all that bad. They did have a $25 minimum - which upon closer inspection was not the actual bar minimum but the minimum if you were using a credit/debit card* and not actually a strait minimum - but for the two of us, that turned out to be four Guinness (served in tall pilsner glasses. Ooooh...CLASSY!) which really, is the expected on a night out anyways.

From the minute you enter the building, it is as though you have stepped back into a different era. The Art Deco decor is classic and lovely and the staff is attentive and pleasent. You are greeted at the elevator by a gentlemen in a top hat (and tails, if memory serves me - there was so much to take in, including Humphrey Bogart in a classic Casablanca stance standing guard in the ladies room!) who escorts you to the dining/dancing room and/or rooftop bar. We didn't actually make it to the rooftop bar on this particular foray but we fully intend to next time.

But on to the best part...

THE DANCING!

They've got a house band which plays "An Eclectic mix of Swing, Salsa, Rock, and Jazz" and play they do! It's definitely an adult establishment. You won't be blasted by any hip-hop nonsense there or be visually assaulted by a bunch of guys in pants slung at half mast (buisiness casual is the dresscode) and it is absolutely all about the dancing. Tables are situated so that you can watch the band and dance floor while you eat - or not eat, as was our case since we sat at a small table near the edge of the floor and sipped our Guinness instead. I think we cut a dozen and a half rugs last night and did a pretty accomplished job of it if I do say so my not all that unbiased self!

We even met a few people who go there regularly for dancing so next time, we may even be greeted by friends!

*Because since I filed for Bankrupcy last June, I no longer have any credit cards. *SIGH*

Par-tay.

So it's looking like we won't be making it to the first weekend of Ojai which is unfortunate - especially since we are the official poster children for the event. The reasoning behind it however, is magnificent:

My man was officially invited to a Family Event by my brother and sis-in-law.

As in: HIS NAME WAS ON THE INVITATION next to mine.

Huzzah!

And it's for my nephew's 5th birthday party which is brilliant because there will be much action and many kids about so the focus on the day will be them and not us which should allow for a relaxed afternoon. Assuming of course, that the Great Drunken Disaster of Summer 2008 is only brought up in jest once at the beginning of the day.

Fortunately, my family is not one to go overboard with the teasing so I honestly think that things will go just fine.

Schweet.

So far three people have called or come by the house to inform me that "OMG, you and your boyfriend ARE IN A MAGAZINE AD! Dressed like PIRATES! Did you know???"

Well, of course we do. In fact?

We've collected no less than three copies of the damn thing, taped it to the wall in the hallway and shared it with everyone we know. FORCIBLY.

And we've even posted it on the Intarnets.

W00t!!1!

The agony of defeat.

I think it is fairly obvious, given the complete lack of any sort of "YAY!" post whatsoever, that my daughter did not get let out on parole last Wednesday.

*sigh*

Well, I guess that is just the way it goes.

*cue somber melody*

In other, non-related yet still sucktastic news... I took another cut in pay this afternoon so it looks like Den and I will need to find more things to scale back on in terms of our monthly budget to the tune of approximately $100.00.

Too bad that pretty much everything that could have been cut already has been.

*SIGH*

Were not for the good news of N. and C* setting a date for their handfasting and the prospect of sitting down with N. at tonight's shindig to discuss not only her upcoming event but Dennis and mine's as well (providing that K. comes home by next spring and that we are able to scrape up some monies to purchase the necessities), this weekend would have pretty much been a bust.

Childbirth...

It sure feels different when the baby you are (hopefully) about to deliver is 18 years old.

My gods this has been a long time coming. Almost three years. She went away a child and she is coming back a young woman. All the rules have changed and it makes me nervous and anxious and scared and hopeful and excited and a thousand+ other emotions that are so jumbled up that I cannot even name them.

Truthfully, I was a mess when she left. I was barely handling my own life and was struggling to handle hers too. I failed in a lot of ways I think, but I like to also think that I succeeded in a few very important ones. *shrug* At least I HOPE that I did.

*sigh*

Poor Dennis. I've appointed him as The Reality Check. The guy, when I get all wound up and control freak-y, who is going to remind me that I'm supposed to be treating adults like adults and to back off. I think this is going to work. I really do. I love and respect him and given his laid back yet responsible and loving nature, I think he is the perfect candidate for the job.

We will just be three adults living like roommates and friends - after all the kinks are worked out of course, because every new household will have it's random "bumps". But I am hoping that this will all work out *crosses fingers* and we will all be able to coexist happily like a little family. And I think that sounds pretty darn nice.

Depths of hell...or somthing marginally related to it.

Strange. A while ago I commented on someone's MySpace blog about having been on antidepressants and hating it...

Every time I start cleaning the abyss which is my home office, I find something weirder than the last time I started cleaning it. This time however, I might have found the great, great granddaddy of The Strange.

For those of you who didn't already know, I used to be nuts. Certifiably. It all started with depression, which lead to antidepressants, which lead to anti anxiety meds which lead to more meds and more meds more meds until HOLY HELL I was on anti-freaking-psychotics because all those hundreds of other psychotropic meds?

They were making me paranoid and under the impression that the TV was talking to me and about me, amongst other fantastically bizarroland things.

In a nutshell, I was suffering from drug induced psychosis. I was drugged quite literally out of my mind. Fortunately, after the "doctor" who was treating me vanished (and was presumably relieved of his medical license) I got a new doctor who weaned me off of the shit and got me back on my mental feet.

Anyways.

While I was on the Crazy Train, I used to write a lot. VOLUMES. Truckloads of Crazy. And today I found a large pile of it buried under underneath the most mundane of things - like old bills and bank statements, etc.

WOW.

I couldn't shred up that shit fast enough lemme tell ya. Because the thought of me having an accident or dying suddenly and leaving that crap to be discovered by my daughter or my Dennis scared the hell out of me. It's a time that I'm embarrassed about and don't like to think too much about because well, I said and did some REALLY cuckoo stuff but thankfully, by the grace of I don't know what, I managed to screw my head back on and move forward and I never looked back.

It would break my heart if the last things they had to remember me by was a bunch of twacked out nonsense rambled by a woman in the clutches of insanity. You know? I would far rather have them remember me how I am right now:

Blissfully happy.

Unquestionably loved.

And last but not least... (relatively) SANE.

The Sexy™

Dennis and I just got back from a ballroom dance seminar with six other couples and wow are my legs tired but DAMN, does he have The Sexy™. My baby was moving his groove thing like he meant that shit from the bottom of his deep, dark, Rumba-saturated soul!

Hopefully *crosses fingers*, I'll catch up and find me some rhythm before I bust a hip (and bring the both of us crashing to the floor) while trying to figure out where my legs go when I'm making one of those fancy turns.