I drank giant Budweiser pounders and partied with my parents, family friends, Marcia Ball and Kathleen Sebelius Saturday night. You know, a pretty typical Saturday night.
Knuckleheads is essentially a shack of a bar tucked away in a defunct part of North Kansas City near some railroad tracks. It's appeal is the quantity and quality of bands that it hosts and the fact that they have to play the music loud enough to be heard over the trains.
I, along with two other lovely ladies, got lost on what seemed like a tiny dance floor until it suddenly overflowed with the oversized flowered blouses and orthopedic dancin' shoes of Marcia's typical fan base - proof that most of my generation has yet to discover the appealing sounds of New Orleans, blues, zydeco, sax, piano, guitar...or they just have shitty taste in music...probably the latter.
Then, after enjoying a front row seat for Marcia and her band, the crowd parted, and there was teeny, tiny Kathleen Sebelius with a couple of giant dudes in tow. She brushed past me in route to what I assume was the bathroom and if I had had one less giant Bud, my reaction time would have been quick enough to catch her attention, chat with her and casually mention that I had some classes with a certain les-bi-nan family member of hers when we were at K-State (who was quite the cool chick by the way), but then I realized that it wouldn't have been all that much fun to do since she's a Democrat and doesn't get all squirmy at the mention of anything remotely homosexual like her Republican counterparts. Also, I would've asked her to tell Obama "heeeey" for me and tell him that I really, REALLY need a goddamn job.
My dad said he spotted her among the dancing mass last time he saw Marcia Ball at Knuckleheads a few years ago, but that was when she was just the measly governor of Kansas. Now, she's the U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services under Obama and therefore kind of a big deal. This time I think she sort of held back. I suppose that's what politics does to a person. The higher you go, the more stifled you get in a desperate attempt to avoid any of that additional public scrutiny that comes with doing such devilish things as dancing and having a beer and doing anything involving fun. The only problem is, when you deprive yourself so severely for the sake of a squeaky clean rep, all the stifled-ness often explodes and suddenly you're boning hookers and shoving cigars up interns' hoohas.
But, I do commend Madame Secretary for being cool enough to be a Marcia Ball fan AND finding a way to break away from the White House to come to a podunk bar in Kansas City just to have a little fun.
Those big dudes with the curly cue cords coming out of their ears and running down their necks looked kind of uneasy that a Democratic U.S. Cabinet member was just prancing around the redneck-tastic-ness that is that bar.
Speaking of U.S. Cabinet member, after we left the bar and started walking to the car, my dad had an epiphany - those weren't just bodyguards, those were definitely Secret Service Agents...who surely had nothing short of machine guns strapped to their hips and probably at least a glock hidden elsewhere. So, make that a U.S. Cabinet member and a gaggle of Secret Service Agents just prancing around a little shithole in Kansas City. I think we've just been put on the map.
And, for your viewing pleasure, unbeknownst to me, Whittah caught me in a compromising position during my trip to Denver. Here is a true to life, unrehearsed, I shit you not visual to go along with the faulty shower curtain fiasco I told you about in my last post. I have far too much fun to ever be in politics:
Quit staring at my ass you pervs.