Put it this way: everyone always complains about how it goes straight from summer to winter, but this year has been ridiculous. We went from having the AC on full time – to wearing ski masks, pretty much in one week. Thank god for the next few days, probably the only respite we’ll get until the spring thaws out. I was so psyched to be outside that Chopes and I sat on the stoop for a half hour and growled at all the huskies wandering by with their owners. How dare they just walk by like that don’t they know that the Chopes owns the sidewalk from Berkeley to Lincoln?
Tessa and I recreated an early date (circa 2000) tonight by going to Jesse Drucker’s birthday party at Rasputin, which is a giant floor-show Russian dinner extravaganza that has to be seen to be believed. The meals last for about two hours (my faves: the salmon and the lamb) while a set of dazzling young Russian singers recreate a boisterous set of Euro-disco from the stage. By dessert, the lights dim and the floor show begins: glitzy, surreal, vaguely-related pieces that feature Vegas-style excessiveness and hot, hot, hot Russian dancers who don’t wear very much. In between the sets, the crowd gets dancing, and it becomes a mosh pit (with better clothing):
Since Tessa doesn’t drink anymore and I have pretty much followed suit, the whole thing began to overload our brains; it’s truly an experience best felt behind the hazy penumbra of three or four vodkas (provided). Plus, this show didn’t have the spectacle of the one we saw two years ago this one was a little more twee and there were far from enough breastesses, in my humble opinion. If you’ve never been, though, Jesus…
I tried to take a few pics while there, but I’m still getting the hang of the new camera. Of course, the mistakes you make can be even more interesting than your intentions.
the wrong shutter speed and a weird flash combine for this picture of Tessa, Nell and me (yes, we’re in there). Click for a bigger version