amorpheus

I know how worried you get, so I thought I owed it to you to tell you how my weekend was. I should warn you that this is a long entry, so remember to pace yourself. Take a few deep breaths. Ready? Okay... GO!

I went out the last three nights in a row. This is the closest I've ever come to having a "life," which is a thrilling new experience.

First there was the happy hour at the sidewalk cafe. I showed up a half hour early so I could fret about whether anyone else would show up. Hey, it's a hobby. Once other people arrived, I relaxed enough to start developing some sort of disorder in which I would compulsively and unconsciously eat sugar packets. I would be in the middle of a conversation and notice that there was a half-empty sugar packet in front of me and a sweet taste in my mouth and would think, "Not again!" Anyway, it was a good time with great company, as I had very rapidly come to expect from Suicide Girls. Once happy hour had ended, a smaller contingency of us headed two doors down the street to a bar whose happy hour wasn't yet over. Freyja and I discussed sexuality and sexual orientation over vodkas. I had previously written an essay on this topic, so you could just read that to get the gist of my views. The important thing is that I am an outspoken advocate of Zata Rights, including the right to wear fishnets and a top hat and the right to feel all sexy because you are wearing fishnets and a top hat. Some zataphobes say that this movement is "silly" because "we already have those rights." To them I say, "Hey, narc, that doesn't mean I don't support them!"

By the time happy hour was over, our party had dwindled to myself, the aforementioned Freyja, and kingsnake. We went out to the Dumpling Man for dinner, with kingsnake and I discussing comics on the way. I love discussing comics, but it's very rare that someone will have something halfway intelligent to say about them. I've found, to my surprise, that I enjoy discussing "Sin City" with people. I've heard people say it was great and I've heard people say it was awful, and I invariably agree with them. After I saw it, I was afraid that people would be too distracted by the spectacular visuals to notice how stupid it was, but among the people I talked to, there was a concensus that it's a very pretty movie with terrible writing, and whether it's good or not depends entirely on your priorities.

As we ate our dinner in the park, it started to rain. I pulled out my umbrella, but there wasn't enough room under it for three, so I'm afraid kingsnake may have gotten a bit wet. We soon parted ways, though, with Freyja and I going to a bar where her friend was set to DJ. We talked animatedly about nothing in particular until he showed up. I worked on a new pick-up line: "My name is Syd. It rhymes with 'Huge Cock.'" It doesn't make much sense, but, with any luck, nobody will notice, being distracted by my Huge Cock. No, really. Huge. Eventually the DJ friend came around, and it wasn't long after that that Freyja and I had to separate. It felt like the night was ending too soon, but I think that the night could have only been interrupted by the sun rising and it still would have seemed too soon.

The following night was the Tsunami Bomb concert, which is always a good time. I met Steffan and his girlfriend Christina there, and Christina was wearing a Suicide Girls shirt, which I was thrilled about. There were some half-decent punk bands opening the show. During the first, a mosh pit formed, but it was a sad little thing consisting of little kids stomping around in circles, so Steffan and I ran into the center of the pit and slammed into each other as hard as we could. Then, when the music slowed down, we slowdanced to show that there were no hard feelings. When I caught my breath, I realized that my sweater was not an appropriate choice of attire in that weather and I remembered how little sleep I had gotten the night before and I resolved not to move until Tsunami Bomb came on.

One band had technical difficulties and asked if anyone in the audience knew any jokes. I started with, "Two cannibals are eating a clown and one turns to the other and says, 'Does this taste funny to you?'", but I didn't get a laugh until I told the next one: "How many emo kids does it take to reshingle a roof? It depends how thin you slice them." I actually don't hold anything particularly against emo kids or emo as a movement, I just thought it would be a good way to get a punk audience on my side. I whiled away some of the time before Tsunami Bomb telling Steffan and Christina some horrible lawyer, racial, and dead baby jokes that had been cleverly reworked to be about emo kids. Some highlights:

-What's the difference between an emo kid and a trampoline?
You take off your boots before you jump on a trampoline.
-What do you call twenty emo kids at the bottom of the ocean?
A good start.
-What's the difference between a Ferrari and an emo kid's corpse?
I don't have a Ferrari in my garage.
-What do you get when you stab an emo kid repeatedly in the chest?
Red whine
-An emo kid walks into a bar, so I kick his fucking teeth in.

Tsunami Bomb finally hit the stage. While they were setting up, I looked over at their new guitarist Jay and said to Matt, "I didn't want to say anything, but I think Oobliette's really let herself go..." Matt laughed and then told Gabe who also laughed. I tell you, there are few greater thrills in my life than someone laughing at my jokes or someone I admire acknowledging my existence - and that was both of those things! After they started playing, M remarked on how great an audience they had in New Jersey, on the opposite side of the country from where they came, where they didn't expect many people would even know who they are. Granted, every time they've been in New Jersey, Steffan and I have been in the front row going absolutely apeshit, so they always have that nice facade of enthusiasm facing them, but this time it really seemed like the whole crowd was alive with excitement. I think that's very important for a rock show, because, often, the more energy you have, the better the show you get out of the band. That was certainly the case this time.

Last night, I went to the same bar I had gone to last week, where not only was Toothpick there, but an adorable puppy named Toby, too. I hung out there for a bit and played pool horribly. I had one game against Barbarella in which I lost three times in the same game. I ended up leaving a bit too early so I could make it home, which has been my pattern lately, and probably will be until I move my home a bit closer...

Then came the part I skipped.

Then it was today, when I thought about those signs with Braille writing on them. How do blind people know to read them? Do they just run their fingers against walls until something feels like language? That seems unsafe.

For those of you who made it to the end of this entry, congratulations! You are the greatest.