Dublin Pub (6821 SW Beaverton Hillsdale Hwy)

Terrible food. Bad service. You will lose your hearing. But guess what? Tonight I was an uninhibited (mostly) dancing girl. The most fun in the whole world. How great is that. And it was Jen's birthday. Her 30th. It was her second of three birthday parties. The Dublin Pub was host to me coming out of my shell and dancing like crazy all night long. Or at least several times all night long. The Boys Next Door (very loud cover band) killed my hearing, but enticed me to keep dancing. I want to go again! Happy Birthday Jen!

Addendum: I went back. Their chips and salsa are actually really good. It is more fun to go and dance than to sit and listen. So if you go, go to dance and dance a lot. Go with dancing friends. If you don't have any dancing friends, call me and I'll go with you!

Imbibe (2229 SE Hawthorne Blvd )

Last Saturday I bought the biggest earrings I have ever purchased. Long dangling. HOOPS. Hoops that get caught in between my chin and my shoulder when I turn my head. I wanted earrings that I could wear OUT. Real going out. Heels. Trendy capris. As it happened, some of my friends were going to Imbibe on Saturday night to listen to a band play. Imbibe, which previously looked too intimidating for my kind of people, suddenly seemed within reach, now that I had giant hoops and heels to bolster my confidence.

My sister and I got there before our friends. We were seated pretty near the band, which was warming up and fixing all of their technical difficulties. The waitress checked our IDs a second time, in case we were under 21. Flattering.

The couch in the corner, off to the side of the stage, made for a living room like atmosphere. Chandeliers that looked like flea market finds shimmered dim light over the tables, and the band started to play.

A cookie-cutter girl with a low-back black top, started dancing right in front of the band. She swirled and twirled and thrusted and floated. Another sexy blonde joined her and they began to dance together. The sexy blonde sat down after a couple of songs and then a man, clearly over 50, with his shirt open, began to dance with the cookie-cutter.

Smiling and twisting and gyrating, the cookie-cutter girl danced all night. Sometimes by herself and sometimes with others. She had no shame, no embarassment. She had a good time. I think I was a little envious. That will never be me. Not in real life. But maybe sometime when I'm on vacation and visiting a bar where I don't know anyone, I will get into character and play the part of the dancing girl.