If you know me — and I'm guessing you might, because hey, who the hell reads this thing anyway other than the slobs I met at Queen's? — you know I do not dance. Like, pretty much ever. And I tend not to go to places where music is played for the express purpose of dancing because (a.) I usually don't like that kind of music, and (b.) as I mentioned before, I do not dance.
But, alas, within the next three days, I might have to make an exception to that rule, because my buddy Matt is coming to town, and he says he wants to hit a dance-type-club-thing; specifically, the one from which The Edge broadcasts their "live" Sunday night show. (I'm going to have to look that up.)
If you know Matt — and I'm guessing you don't, because hey, he's been out of the country for four of the last five years — he is about the farthest thing from a fan of any danceable type of music that one can imagine (aside from me, of course). This is a guy who routinely listens to Wesley Willis, Black Sabbath and Rammstein; we co-hosted a radio show a few years ago (the only year he lived in Canada after graduation), and I never thought he had this in him.
But he does, and I'm likely going to go with him, because hey, he lives in Brazil these days. Plus, nights out with him tend to be eventful: we once drove from Frankfurt to Bern and back in an evening for a hockey game, we constructed snow-penises in Montreal one New Year's, and I was a passenger in a nearly-brakes-less car he was driving on a bike path in Waterloo.
As I was typing the above paragraph, my phone rang, and guess who it was. No, go ahead, guess. I'll give you time.
. . .
That's right, Matt himself, live from São Paulo. I'm proud of him: he's actually calling to confirm plans. This is a big step for him, as he is easily the most disorganized person in the world (e.g. as I have noted here when he managed to strand himself in Paraguay). At any rate, he just wanted to check in with me before heading out with some co-workers tonight to a Brazilian strip bar; he promised a "full written report."
So, in conclusion, I will dance on Sunday night. Not much, but enough to fill my quota for the year (approximately 6 minutes).
P.S. #1: I cannot stop watching the UK version of The Office. Absolutely brilliant. I am going to start using the word "rubbish" a hell of a lot more.
P.S. #2: I am currently listening to Double Nickels on the Dime, a double album by the Minutemen. That's 43 tracks and 74 minutes of gold, folks.