Then there was that crazy birthday happy-hour for one of my favorite people (whom I haven't seen in ages because every time there's been something go on that involves her, I've been laid low with allergies--and I swear, I adore this person). I'm not going to go in to details, but let's just say there was a lot of talk about $20 bill from someone's vag. Sadly, it wasn't true. Sniffs. I also bragged a lot about my upcoming sterilization. My friends are so great, and admire my tenacity. Thanks, guys!
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Being such a wonderful person myself, I agreed to go on a date with The Boy. Not that I don't usually agree to dates with boy, but this one involved going to see a Gilbert & Sullivan show then catching a couple of bands afterward because a friend was playing in both. Sigh. Not remotely close to an ideal night for me. Gilbert & Sullivan? Are you fucking kidding me? But I did it people. I totally did it. And then, I whined a lot and made dirty faces and clenched my jaw a lot. I didn't enjoy it one bit. I tried, I really did. My behavior was so bad, I had to make amends with The Boy for being so jerky. I blame G&S for turning my brain mushy and making me wish I was deaf and blind. Seriously, I sat there thinking that it would be great if I was, because I could sit there with my honey reading my book in Braille and not hearing a single thing.
Afterward, I was being a baby and wanted to go home, but I also felt badly because that wasn't nice to The Boy. So a compromise was struck. I get a Coke and he agrees to leave sometime during the last act. I totally perked up and even though I spent a lot of time protecting my breast from elbows and cigarettes, it was fun. We ran in to D's brother (D of D&T), who for the umpteenth time acted like he was meeting me for the first time. It's all I can do from saying, "DUDE, Wikus and I took your cat off your hands that you were a millimeter away from giving to a shelter!" Or, "DUDE remember how I was at your sister's wedding, and you stood next to me for a half-hour or so?" He recognizes The Boy every time, just not me. And yes, I am that vain. I stand out in a crowd. I promise you that you'd be able to pick me out in a line-up after meeting me just once. I think it is my nose, but The Boy says it is my ass. In the line-up in my head, they would ask us all to turn around so the person can identify us buy our butts.
We missed his friend's first show, and were treated to a terrible penultimate act (we're not sure the guy even knew he was in Austin--seemed he thought he was in San Antonio). There were a lot of short girls in the crowd. When I say short, I mean probably 5'1" and under. I don't know what to say. It just struck me as odd. As a short girl, I spend a lot of time staring at people's backs, and tonight was no different, just that this time I had a lot of girls I could look down at and not just at their shoulder blades. It was nice. Then there was that guy with austin360.com who wanted to take our picture, and I immediately barked out "no," before I had really realized what he had said. Luckily, it was what I would have said if I had thought about it more; I just regret not being more friendly in my declination.
Finally, after a long wait where I kept trying to use a wall for support (and totally freaking out if it was leaving black smudges all over my nice orange shirt), Daniel Johnston got his mentally challenged self on stage. It appeared that he kicked the band off, but it was hard to tell what happened. He did 2-3 songs acoustic, and then asked us, "Should I use the band now?" I enjoyed the show much better when the band was playing. I kept waiting for someone to hand Daniel something from McDonald's. We left after he played Speedy Motorcycle, so I'll never know if people enabled his fast-food needs.
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If anyone has design ideas for Roofie Teabags, please get with me. We have a lot to discuss!
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Finally, ghosty Bear
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