I needed to go downtown this afternoon and I made sure to bring along my camera. It's something I've been trying to do when I go out, have even had long uninteresting arguments with SML about it, so I put it at the top of my list today: BRING THE CAMERA OR ELSE. Unfortunately, I was so caught up in remembering to bring the camera that I forgot my keys and locked myself out of my apartment.

During one of my time-wasting daily web browsing activities, I read that the more you take your camera with you, the more people will get used to you having it and not think you're weird. Last friday I took that advice and strapped my camera around my shoulder just before SML and I stepped out to the Museum of Science, one of my "Cheap Thrills" activities for the day. SML stopped me asking, "Do you really want to take that camera with you to the club later?"

We argued about this back and forth a bit, with SML noting that the person he thinks about who brings a camera to a club is some old fart from Salt Lake City.  I countered with something like, "You bring your glasses with you to the club so you can see, and you're not a pervert!" I realize now that statement doesn't make any sense, but I think I was trying to make the point that I wasn't actually going to take pictures inside the club, or really of anyone at the club.  See? No...? Bah.

SML and I are generally asleep by 10:00 p.m.,  so this was the first time going out since we've been living in Boston.  SML insisted that we have to make friends, so I left the camera at home agreeing it might not make the best first impression.

Later that night at the "club" where no one danced, I had myself a couple of Dirty Gin's. This is something I'll do when I feel uncomfortable, to feel more comfortable, but it always backfires because I'll always want to talk about Barbara Walters, or Diane Sawyer and how they're the authorities on everything. At one point I confused Kathy Griffin with Kathy Lee Gifford and kept saying how much I hated her on the Today Show. SML was even agreeing with me until we noticed the crowd of distorted faces and the repeated, "HOW CAN YOU HATE KATHY GRIFFIN?" questions.

I excused myself at some point to use the restroom and returned to find SML with a new crowd.  The crowd would grow larger when people were introduced as, "This is gay Mormon too!"  The night basically ended for me right then, personal problems really, because I felt threatened by the gay mormons invading my turf. It was probably a mistake to tell SML all of this, because he gave me the look that spells c-r-a-z-y as we were leaving.

Walking to the subway SML asked, "Did you see that guy taking pictures?"

I had to be honest. "Yes. He looked like a pervert." 

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