Hmmm.. Can we say lame

So, Saturday night was interesting if nothing else. Like I said in my last post, I had dinner with my partner's sister, in celebration of her birthday, even though her birthday was at the beginning of January. Just a little late, but hey she enjoyed it, and it was nice to actually do something with his family that isn't just going over to his parents' house and sitting around talking and watching tv.

On to the rave. So, I was convinced to go to Furious 2. (where do they come up with these names? Seriously, where?) My first hint that this party was going to be lame was the location. Only about a five minute drive from where I live, it took place in a pretty ghettofied area of Oakland. The site of the party was at the Noodle Factory, I have no idea how they came up with this name, pretty ridiculous if you ask me. For, in fact, it seemed more like some weird combination of a warehouse and an apartment. How exactly to describe it? Hmm... Well, first it seemed like the building was built in the 40s. It had two rooms upstairs. One a huge empty space where the floor was bubbling up in areas(for lack of a better term) making it quite difficult to dance at all. The other room on this floor had an area where they were selling drinks (water, beer, and wine?). The weird thing was that it seemed to be a kitchen attached to a living room/dining room. It had a fridge, stove, etc.. etc... And when I took a second look at the room itself the seemed to be set up as if someone lived there, and that they removed many of the living items. On to the downstairs. Well the stairs that one had to walk down seemed again to have been built in the 40s, and led to a small room (more of a large hallway really) that led into another large space. Attached to this larger room, was, get this, a laundry room. Complete with washing machines and one drying machine. This room it seemed was the smoking room. Both tobacco and marijuana, mmmm.. too bad I didn't bring any of my own. Luckily there were people willing to share. Not that they were normally giving people, but more likely than not because they were rolling on ecstasy. Scary thing was that this party was an all ages event. Which meant that I was standing around a bunch of young kids messed up on E. Oh, the joy. Well, I couldn't stand it very long (the smell and heat were just too much), so I called my boy, and he came and picked me up. Sad really, not the party, but the fact that I used to enjoy this. Although, I don't think even when I was going out to parties all the time that I would have thought that this space was somehow exceptional, just passable. How the years go by.