2007-08-12

Who that man in a black sedan?

Uuh-kay. I don't even know where to start.

Connie is home from California for a visit, so Friday night marked the first secret society meeting since May at which all three members were present. The planets aligned and blood rained from the sky. Resplendent. Festivities were held at a hookah bar of indeterminate location, but suffice to say it was right next to a White Castle. Later, invitations were extended to a soiree at Mike's, but Ali begged off citing "terminal exhaustion" and I had to decline as well due to "not wanting to go." Really, I don't know where the partywolf reputation of mine comes from-I'd much rather go home and watch baseball with my dad. But since both the Twins and our satellite dish were performing shittily, I gave up on that dream and finished my most recently commissioned painting instead.

Saturday was another one for the Guiness Book of Awesome. Conns and I were headed to First Ave for the Mickey Avalon concert with three tickets in hand, but our friends are certifiable buckets of lame and kept bailing out on the event due to their overbearing girlfriends or lack of adventurous spirit. But as fate would have it, I got a call from Minnesota's strip-club-employee-turned-fast-food-maven du jour, Katie K. She was shipping off to Oklahoma the next morning to pursue a degree in mortuary science (readers, I shit you not) so I awarded her the coveted (ha!) ticket #3 as a going-away present.

So! Connie and I donned our carefully planned hipster costumes--heavy on the headscarves, Urban Outfitters, and eyeliner--and Katie played navigator as the Fine Line is just around the corner from Vu (her former employer/house of ill repute). Great! Doors opened at eight but the opening act didn't start til ten, so we had plenty of time to catch up on a year's worth of news (and project into the future year's worth of news, just in case we lose touch again). In no uncertain terms, Katie told us all about some "bitchwigger cunt of a sixteen year old" who up and stole her boyfriend and Connsy shared a certain untoward anecdote about a vicious assault and Taco Bell theft that took place in our very own hometown. It was a gordita of a fun.

We took a break from trading gossip at the behest of Connie, who was craving some Djarums. Katie K knew of a fine retailer mere blocks away who sold them, so we were on our way. The "fine retailer" turned out to be Sex World, which was not necessarily to my taste, but I'm no complainer so I followed her in, careful to avoid eye contact and not touch anything. We hightailed it back to the Fine Line for some cloves and loitering and when, as Miss Wang would have it, we had smoked an entire spice rack, we resumed our post on the dance floor. Someone even said "fucking hipsters" as we brushed by him on our way in, which completely made my night as it was concrete evidence that all of the work that went into my hipster costume paid off.

By the time Mickey took the stage, I was so excited I could barely contain myself. But I'm pretty containable plus it was hot in there and I was tired and all the cloves were kind of relaxing and blah blah long story short, we all got away without me causing a scene. Other things happened, such as the pouring of beer on my head by some dude with a beard, but I'll skip the details since its about time I wrapped this novel up. I took a few photos to commemorate the occasion, so you can check them out on Facebook and commence kicking yourself for not coming with us.

All right. I think I have blogged hard enough for you, and you would have a tendency to agree.


ps - Meteor shower excursion tonight. We'll be heading to the uncharted wilderness of Waconia around, oh, say, nine-ish? Ten-ish? Call me, as usual.

zebrasaur at 4:34 p.m.

0 comments so far

previous | next