What a pleasant surprise this morning when, not really knowing what to wear to work, I randomly tried on a pair of pants that, in truth, haven't really fit me for the last few months. I was delighted that I could button and zip them without as much discomfort as the last time I had tried to wear them. Now, I'm not going to be arrogant and assume I've lost all this weight or all these inches. Truthfully, they were a fraction of a millimeter too tight, but not so tight that I veto-ed them...and I will *always* veto pants (or any piece of clothing for that matter) that run the slightest risk of making me look fat. So it was a small, sweet victory for 8am on a Thursday.

I finally made it to 7, Jermaine O'Neal's new club in Broad Ripple. It was pretty crowded, but also very fun.

We first saw the "lounge floor" with the beds and tables. At one time, I asked Jenn how one goes about procuring a bed to sit on. She told me to go ask the people already sitting on a bed. Well, I didn't. The tables were cool. They were low and round, almost like giant, acrylic ottomans. And they had neon lights in them.

The dance floor was super fun but super crowded. Thankfully, I'm small enough that I was able to duck under people's arms and get to the bar and get served within 5 minutes of arriving. There was a stage, an unattractive dancer on a pedestal, and the DJ looked like one of my clients. They had cold shafts of air shoot down from the ceiling every now and then to cool everyone off. That was pretty fun. They also had dancers dancing behind a partition so that you only saw their shadows. At one time, one of the dancers was absent for a period of time, to which Geoff indicated she was probably taking a dump. Yeah. Ok.

All in all, I had a spectacular time at 7 and look forward to returning there soon to shake my booty and what not. The only drawback of the evening was when a stupid bitch slammed her head into mine. Hey, concussions aren't bad ass.