Shaking my money-maker and feeding the economy

This weekend my friend Sarah and her boyfriend Thom were in town for a visit, and where Sarah and Thom are, good times follow. Usually it's drunken, 4 a.m. trouble with at least someone crying by the end of the night, or being threatened to be arrested. Good times!

Before our inevitable late night, the Team Hamster girls (Sarah, Liz and me) met at Yolk on Roosevelt for brunch, which was awesome. Of course, I had not eaten before brunch so I might have actually inhaled the pancakes and bagel I ordered. Because I'm cooking-challenged, I can't seem to make pancakes in my own kitchen, so paying someone else to do it is just as good. 

Now with a horribly full stomach, it was off to Michigan Avenue to start supporting the economy with our stimulus checks (thanks Mr. Bush!) Sarah is the devil at getting me to spend money, so now two pairs of Tory Burch shoes are being shipped to my parents house and I had to cut myself off before purchasing more at Banana Republic. So much for getting practical things with my stimulus check. I do still have some money left over so I can guy things like towels and wash baskets. Phew.

The main event to our Hurricane Sarah/Thom weekend culminated at the Globe Pub last night. The Globe is a Chicago dive bar and my original memories of it were...divey. I'm a preppy person so to no surprise, dive bars aren't really my scene. When we first started going there, the Globe had a disgusting bathroom, stale smoke smell and it was all-around dirty. I always wanted to Wet-Nap my chair. But now that our local smoking ban is in full effect, it's actually not that bad! 

The bar now has a dance floor for the Saturday-night DJ and by the time we met up with Sarah and friends at the bar, she was more than hammered and dancing like she was in Footloose. This includes grinding on of the short poles around the dance area, which gave me a flashback to last Saturday night's activities.

But the DJ's homage to 90s hip hop/rap made my shoulders shake and ignited the need for dancing. I don't go out dancing regularly so when I'm ready to dance, clear the floor! So after about two Stella's, I was up on that dance floor with the rest of the gang, shaking my money-maker like it was hot. Actually I looked like I was having trouble keeping my balance and/or was having a seizure, but I pulled out my best white-girl moves for my friends. The sprinkler, running man and shopping cart all came out. I even had some unknown guy shake his butt at me during Baby Got Back, so I managed to give him a friendly spanking, since that seems to be what he was looking for.  It was a fun night. And my dancing shoes are all warmed up for next weekend when we rock the reception, Wisconsin-style.

Update: Tipp reminded me of something that I forgot to mention. About 11 p.m. the DJ put on Thriller from Michael Jackson and people rushed the dance floor to do the thriller moves. You know what ones I'm talking about. You could definitely tell who was alive and remembered that video circa 1983.