In honor of Qwanty's triumphant return to PDX, and in honor of Friday night, we (myself, Qwanty, her Brain Scientist, and Mikey (of the J variety) went to Shut Up and Dance, after drinks in the Cellar at Ringler's Annex. Shut up and Dance is terrific, because it is like attending a high school dance, with the following improvements: 1) alcohol, 2) no one to drag you into the hallway to cry about the fact that the boy of the week is not dancing with her (seriously, I spent three-quarters of my high school dance time consoling other girls in the hallway. The other forth was split equally between slow dancing with Chris Buzo or Jason Birch, and dancing in a circle with my girlfriends to Erasure, New Order, or Tone Loc--the music that I wouldn't miss for any crying chick in the hallway), 3) no chaperones.
Once again, while dancing to Blonde, Berlin and Cyndi Lauper, I thought about the fact that all of my moves are modified versions of things I have seen Molly Ringwald do to music in film. Seriously. If it hadn't been so packed on the dance floor, I would have done the full out leg kick dance from The Breakfast Club. The only time I don't sort of dance like Molly Ringwald is when I'm dancing to "Sweet Child of Mine", when I'm doing a modified version of the Axl Rose side-to-side slither.
It's not a great scene, but is is awful fun.