Who, Me?

(July 15, 2001)

It's 2:30am. Just got back from the Lizard Lounge, where Shaun & Suzi hosted their 8th annual Bastille Day shindig. All kinds of stuff to write about THAT, but you'll have to wait for the next Noise.

The coolest thing just happened. But wait, I should preface first. I'll preface by saying, if you don't already know, that I am far from one of those stick-thin girlies who can wear anything and prance around half naked totally comfortable that nothing jiggles that shouldn't be jiggling. Nope, far from that. As such, even though I like my clothes and have, y'know, cool shoes 'n stuff, I still always feel like a house when out in a club that's packed with the belly-buttons poking out from tiny babydoll tee shirts. I don't let anything poke out of anywhere. Tonight, for example, I wore an old black silk dress, pearl choker necklace, fat-heeled lime green shoes and a lime green scarf around my head. I was iffy about the scarf, but I really wanted to wear the shoes and a girl has to coordinate, y'know.

So here's cool thing: The music is all over, people are mostly gone, and I'm walking out with Jim, when he stops for a second to talk to someone. I'm just standing, feeling tired and dumpy and four margaritas to the wind, not looking at anyone or anything in particluar. God only knows what I looked like, standing like a doofus and staring at nothing. Suddenly I hear "HEY Lexi. You look SEXY." I look up and it's Chris Mascara. Lord help me, I almost looked around behind me to see if there's another Lexi standing there. "What?" I say. "You look like a flame..." Chris drawls dramatically, and deftly vogues a hand jive at me. A flame? I have no idea what that means, but who cares. This totally sexy guy, that I barely know to say hi to, called me sexy for no reason.

Now that's what I call a good night.