There’s like, no particular drama to share with you this week. Not that Nightlife wasn’t fierce—me and my gang boogied the night away last Friday at Volume. It was just one of those nights where one had to lose one’s self in dance. Maybe it had something to do with the planets, or Friday the thirteenth. Oh yeah, it was pretty scary because I was surrounded by people with no dancing skills whatsoever. Still, it was oodles of fun, but it’s not like I can recreate the jazz square and the foxtrot here in my column unless I post a link to a vlog and show you how we pulled shapes. I guess you just had to be there. I can, however, post a link to www.hk-magazine.com where you can reread the awesomest HK features and restaurant reviews and relive the Nightlife through my previous columns. Yes, we have a cool new working website. Sort of.

Shameless editorial promotion aside, I haven’t dropped it like it’s hot for quite a while, so I was totally in a dancing mood by Friday afternoon until that was extinguished by the rain. It started pouring torrential cats and bitches right after our late dinner on Elgin, and descending down SoHo roads with mini-waterfalls gushing down the steps was like taking a little promenade down a mountain stream during a tropical rainstorm. And my fierce new leather bag and boots got completely soaked when we walked down to Hollywood. Not hot.

I got to the club, and I just had to sit my wet ass down and take my boots off. DJ Angus was trying to get me dancing by offering me free champagne, but alas, my dancing feet felt wet and icky so I just sat there. But then he put on Estelle and Kanye’s “American Boy,” and I immediately abandoned my discomfort and my group, and leapt onto the floor. My demure friend Esther abandoned her property, shoved people out of her way and joined me. “Omigawd I love this song! I’ve been listening to it over and over and over and over again since they put the video on YouTube!” I exclaimed. “Omigawd really? Me too!!” screamed Esther in consent.

So we bonded, and bonded some more when Mariah’s exhilarating “Touch My Body” came on and we were officially a hot mess couple. We can’t help it if we have wicked dance moves. I didn’t say that myself, the people around us did. And then Madge’s “Give It 2 Me” came on, so we pulled more shapes.

Just a minor doubleyou tea eff moment, because we were too busy having fun to get caught in other people’s rubbish. There was this Kiwi bloke there who was smitten by Esther’s Lolita-esque look that night and kept telling her, “You should be in London, you should be in London.” Uh huh, why can’t she just be in Hong Kong? And you’re from New Zealand with your shirt completely unbuttoned, so why the hell would you be the judge of cool in charge of the immigration laws to London town? Bitch, puh-lease.