Last night was (mostly) a bust. Carabar? Nevin again. I’m so sick of hipsters. 90% of the bar was wearing a toboggan. Really dude? You’re not fooling anyone – it’s ninety-five degrees in here. Art school kids: whaddya gonna do. Funk dance party at Circus was more like a morgue, and St. James was too packed to let me adequately enjoy my guinness.
Tonite’s back to the home-base: Rumba. Ed’s birthday celebration, sexy music, sexy people.
Be there or be square, honchos. I’ll promise to keep my hands to myself. Mostly.
These jerks will be playing: