It’s a great feeling when you’re not ready for the night to be over, and then something comes up at the last second to extend it. That is, if that thing that comes up is a welcome one.
Last weekend, Alden texted everyone to meet at the Rockies game. Hell yes – I couldn’t care any less than I do about baseball, but I’m all for going to the game with a big group of friends. I see it as a social activity rather than a sporting event, so it’s easy to have fun without really caring about the game. 9 of us went to the game, and spent most of our time in the nosebleeds (literally 2 rows from the highest you can possibly be in the stadium, but Mile High is set up so that we had a postcard-quality view of the sun setting on the front range) talking about hypothetical situations including: what superpower would you have, what baseball record would you like to hold, etc. Who doesn’t love discussing questions like those?
Meg and I decided to skip getting a ride from Alden and instead, have a lovely walk though the warm breeze and nightlife of the city. Once I walked Meg home, I was about 2 blocks from my place when I saw who I thought was Ben Kronberg (bigshot local comic, friend of mine)… Hey, I know that moped… hey, I know that jacket! And he’s going into Jim’s place! I go up to Jim (another great local funnyman, lives around the corner from me)’s door and call him, he walks up behind me, carrying assorted party goods. He invites me up for a little party they’re having, we go to the Esquire Theater for a quick standup show that he, Greg, Adam, and Ben are doing before the midnight showing of Ghostbusters, and then to a super hip secret party at an art studio in the industrial district. Oh, hipsters… I love you so. You’re ALL Converse All-stars in MY book.
This party was nuts – the most hip hip HIP kids you’ve ever seen, covered in head to toe in their hippest gear – and EVERYONE is smoking. I may have been the only one at the entire party that didn’t, at one point, step outside onto the sidewalk, densely populated with hipsters, to enjoy a cigarette or 30. When will you people learn that throat cancer is SO 1998?
This art studio was quite a scene – the place looked like an Urban Outfitters, but, like, authentic… but I still couldn’t stop wondering where the ‘ironic t-shirts and scuba-esque sunglasses’ section was. But this place was the real deal – real, 100%, undistilled cool. A DJ was spinning the funky tunes, and the more courageous of the hipsters and I were shaking our respective groove things on the makeshift dancefloor. And the really cute Asian girl that I was eyeing turned out to be the drummer for the Hot IQs, Adam tells me. I love you, adorable girls in popular indie bands that I don’t like. Le sigh.
Comedy continues to go well; I haven’t missed a single Tuesday Open Mic at the Squire since my first set of standup comedy 7 months ago, and I’ve recently written a ton of new material that has done really well. I may have some more substantial gigs coming up, and of course, you, my precious Gee, will be the first to know.
As I type this, I’m on a plane headed to Chicago – the city so nice, they named it… Chicago. Last weekend was my dad’s birthday, and mother’s day, and yesterday was my sister’s birthday. So, Auggie the dog and I are the only ones not being celebrated for my weekend visit. No matter, I adore my family, and I hope they like the books I bought for them, trying to match their personality to a hardcover… not an easy task. Damn you, words!
