Saturday night jumps off at Lego’s monthly party @ Darkroom. I love his parties, because all my good househead friends congregate to this night and it’s such a wonderful feeling of family: Buzzito, Lito and his new boyfriend, Raw food Chris, Wanda, David Sabat, Louis, Aida and Claudia to name a few. After that we head to Adam’s loft party on North Branch to hear Andre Hatchett spin. The party was the perfect size (not too crowded), and the place was actually clean! No gross raver kids drugging up the way a lot of loft parties are. My carry-on bottle of Tequila was getting quite a workout and I had a massive headache to show for it afterwards.
Sunday is the grimey Note to hear reggae… Tuesday we go to Xippo followed by Subterranean for hiphop. Yuck. Sausage fest. Then is desperation we follow some friends to Martini Ranch and that’s where I wanted to just run for the hills. Chicago Scene Magazine photographers were taking our pictures, a gross rhythmless crowd of Paris Hilton types, and the most horrible music I have ever heard. It was a miserable and miscalculated night.
So by Wednesday I am sick as hell. Fever, runny nose and restlessness. Thursday and still deathly sick, I manage to make my way to K Lounge and a packed-to-death Four.
Friday I’m with friends at Ohm and hear Roy Davis Jr. at Zentra. An old boytoy has been calling me up lately, so I finally talk to him. It’s amazing how time can erase all the bad qualities someone had and make them seem charming again. I invite him to join us, but somewhere along the night him and his friends got lost in a hiphop show and “something bad” happened. Hey, in a House club you don’t got to worry about getting shot.