Paparazzi. They’re Everywhere
The birthday party for the gal turning 30 was a raging success. It turned out to be quite a little reunion for the old Richouxs Regulars since we seem to have pretty much dispersed among three or four different bars. We held the shindig pretty much at where Richouxs once stood. The new glitzy place gutted the original building that was once a restaurant with an adjacent bar. It now gives a warehouse effect with three separate bars and lots of dance space where the younger late crowd raves or moshes or does whatever it is they do these days. Since one of our former Richouxs bartenders works there, she reserved one of the three bars for our party the bar that actually pretty closely rests on the hallowed ground where our old haunt was. It somehow felt we were partying on top of some sacred Indian burial ground, but no disrespect was intended.
The honoree was please with the turnout of old friends about thirty of us and it was good to be back together again as anyone could surmise by the consumption.
The Birthday Girl – my surrogate daughter. LOVE that birthday spanking tradition you know.
As the night wore on and the uh lemonade flowed, I was jolted by something OTHER than the loud white noise I tolerate in that establishment. The DJ was actually playing a song that I not only recognized, but liked. I mean it had a melodic tempo, discernable lyrics, and everything!!
Well. Whats a guy approaching his lemonade limit to do
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DANCE!!
But I dont dance. Had this been a movie clip all would agree. I mean I went to the Elaine Benes School of Dance for Christs sake. {Note: I can dance to belly-rubbing music quite well Im told, but I figure there is lots of incentive with that.]
When happy feet struck, I also sighted one of about five elevated stumps that are positioned on the dance floor. Nobody really knows why they are there. Theories include: part of the beach décor (they stand about two feet high and are lined with bamboo), a temporary resting area for tiring cloggers, or personal liability litigation magnets (a theory offered by the lawyers in our group). Regardless, it seemed to me at the time that someone who doesnt dance should just as well not dance on top of one of these.
I dont think I was there two minutes (but admittedly, I wouldnt know) before I was joined by that complete stranger in red in the pic above who came from one of the other faraway bars in the joint. She certainly was a friendly girl. Apparently she had been waiting for some lemonade-laden fool to start the evenings dancing and I qualified quite nicely. She was followed very shortly by other youths from the other bar as well:
Of course NONE of this kind of shit could have ever happened in my own youthful bachelor days. Noooooooo
Not being particularly stoopid young men, some of those too finally elected to join in the uh opportunity.
Not a rave, no moshing its booty dancing (so Im told). Of course NONE of this kind of dancing could have ever been popular in my own youthful bachelor days. Noooooooo
The nice friend of mine who thought to collect these pics for hysterical purposes, forward them to me with the message that I had really busted a move.
Funny. The next morning I would have sworn that I had really busted a hip.
Looks like it was a great time! Great pics! *thumbs up!*
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looks like you had a kick-ass time! 🙂 and you did bust a move, all slick and suave-like.
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I can hear that move busting from here.
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OMG, these pics are great! It sounds like a great night, and I’m impressed that you remember so much of it 😉
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Richoux’s does not rest in peace nor is forgotten. The reunion seems a perfect annual tradition. Well done, Phaedrus. By the way, had to laugh out loud at your comment on chainsaws and vehicles. Jeesh.
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It’s always the people who have lives that are actually the funny one’s! You’ll be glad later to have pictures of many young woman bustin’ a move with you on the dance floor. : ) As for me, perhaps I had best keep my eye peeled for that *ahem*…lemonade you were imbibing. ; )
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I busted a smile reading this! You definitely had your groove on (or whatever it is “they” say these days). Your surrogate daughter is lovely. You’re a wild dancing chick magnet, yanno. I’m sure you were in your bachelor days, too, right? Right. Lemonade in one hand, cig in the other (or mouth) and pretty chickie…well, you fill in the blank. LWM 143
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Now YOU know how to party!
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And you didn’t even invite me!! I’m so sad…I too can only bust a move when drinking way too much lemonade.
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looks like total fun! you look so much like my husband. and what was the song?? I’m old enough to know them all.
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so they’re playing The Bunny Hop in bars down there eh?
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After nights like these…we usually say “Thank God no one had a camera”…. errrrr….your luck sucks! Although they are great! “NONE of this kind of shit could have ever happened in my own youthful bachelor days.” My husband swears all women became ‘easy’ the day he got married 😉
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i want to know what the song was that got you bustin’ too. the last time i danced the night away my knee didn’t forgive me for a month. next time i will appply more tequila throughout the evening to shut it up.
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Those dance pictures are classic!!
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RYN: “However…just think about it. One slip on the deck of a huge liner in the middle of the night and…problem solved.” You have NO idea how pleasant that sounds to me. I’d shove … cheerfully.
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The pictures just leave me wishing for video. Isn’t that always the case? ryn: The girls are sisters of one of the scouts. Their mother had something to do that morning, so the father brought them along. More often than not, the siblings outnumber the scouts.
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RYN: You know I love to hear all of your gutter based comments, even the ones that make me groan out loud. So, please, leave that comment on another entry…”Too Cute for Words” maybe? Just make sure to mark it somehow, so I know it actually refers back to the poem…
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ryn: a standing invitation huh? my mind goes directly to the gutter!
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rynrmnryn…whatever, you get the idea…tell me where you are again? I could probably read through your diary and figure it out, but that’s just too much work!!!
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RYN: (I see it everywhere and assume it stands for read your note) Daycare’s are like a mini UN. I watched a whisper war develop and unfold right before my eyes today. Girls that, two minutes ago, were whispering furiously to each other got mad at another girl for whispering because they wanted to know why she couldn’t just say it out loud. Lord have mercy on me! I don’t know how kids survive.
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Yeah, then you are fairly far. I’m in Sacramento, CA. Never been to Baton Rouge…but I’ll be sure to have my homing beacon on for you if I’m ever there.
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RYN: I get what you are insinuating. Chocolate is good for all sorts of things!!!
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RYN: Hey there… whatever floats your boat. If you get my drift. I have a picture of my completely bare naked foot I can post for you if you’d like to add it to the collection. *wink* You know what I mean!!..
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ryn: i’m past the M&M stage of rage control. that is for novices.
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ryn from the other day: it turns me on when you call me bitch.
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Those are GREAT pics, you party animal!!!!!!!
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Ok, is it me or is that something other than Lemonade? I think your fibbin.
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Go Phaedrus! It’s your birthday! 🙂 What song was it?
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Get down – get funky…and rock on….
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ryn: i’m pretty close to mcclellan…don’t you miss this area and need to visit again? bring back memories of your childhood? 😉
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lol…party animal!
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