Fridays About Town
The number 23 has always had some special siginificance for me. Big things often happen on the 23rd day of the month, so I was excited about last night's prospects. The day itself was a reasonable success as well -- picked up a new set of aviators -- except traffic in this city totally sucks ass.
So that evening (late afternoon was more to it), my flatmate and I wander off to a party at a bar in Pioneer Square called Howl at the Moon. A fine lady who was a friend of a friend had won a party, and we were one of two or three other groups that got off work early (except me! haha) to get down at this place. We got two tickets for 75 cent well drinks each, and were also treated to free hot dogs and tacos. Which was pretty sweet, given our tenuous connection to the axisse of the party and the fact that we hadn't had dinner. Then these two cats get up to take requests on the two grand pianos that were center stage, and they ended up playing everything from "Ain't too Proud to Beg" to "Welcome to the Jungle." It was pretty fun, but most of the crowd were roughly 30, putting them in that awkward phase where they have to be really drunk in order to sing along. Isn't that strange? When you're younger you still care more about getting your song on than giving a shit, and when you're older you sing along because, dammit, you grew up with these songs and the hell with what some "hip" kid thinks of you singing along to your golden oldies. Or just groove. Anyways, the place filled up out of nowhere and everyone seemed to be getting along in their drinks (my two tickets were long gone), so I had to bust out my shiny new aviators, which I was promptly offered $20 for by some woman who must have been twice my age. I turned her down; I had only paid $8 but I had just got them earlier that day and -- let's be honest -- it's not like they restock these things down at the hardware store. Besides, I thought I could get the gentleman she was with to raise the ante, but to no avail.
Anyways, as I mentioned earlier the crowd's median age was about 35, and everyone seemed to be interacting with something to lose. I wasn't really in the mood to infiltrate a pressurized cluster of women, but I did anyway and proceeded to strike out with a rather striking lady. So it goes. Afterwards, we got up onstage to wish some woman a happy 40th birthday, then we bailed.
At this point it was only about 8:30, so we got home and watched all of Starship Troopers and part of Big Trouble in Little China before getting the call and driving out to Kirkland, which is a suburb of Seattle, to meet up with friends at this bar across from the Bank of America. I don't remember the name of the place, but they had a reasonably pneumatic clientele, and gave us free bottles of water on the way out. And we met one absolute tool, who shall remain nameless, but I got his business card and kept it so I could chuckle to myself all over again the next morning, which I later did.
But back to last night: the bar really bitched out on last call (bars close at 2, the lights went on at 1:15), and at our table were myself, Mat Brown, our friend Eric and his girlfriend Kauilani, a pretty girl named Desiree, and Toolius Maximus. Sorry about that last sentence. So there we were, the five of us, and we're invited back for pie, wine and lasagne at Desiree's place which was great because Eric's really funny when he's drunk. Also, Mat Brown has 20/15 vision so if you ever see him wearing glasses you'll know what he's up to.
Next up: the Fremont Oktoberfest is today! be sure to catch my recap tomorrow, which may be slightly more colorful because I'm really saucy when I'm hungover.
So that evening (late afternoon was more to it), my flatmate and I wander off to a party at a bar in Pioneer Square called Howl at the Moon. A fine lady who was a friend of a friend had won a party, and we were one of two or three other groups that got off work early (except me! haha) to get down at this place. We got two tickets for 75 cent well drinks each, and were also treated to free hot dogs and tacos. Which was pretty sweet, given our tenuous connection to the axisse of the party and the fact that we hadn't had dinner. Then these two cats get up to take requests on the two grand pianos that were center stage, and they ended up playing everything from "Ain't too Proud to Beg" to "Welcome to the Jungle." It was pretty fun, but most of the crowd were roughly 30, putting them in that awkward phase where they have to be really drunk in order to sing along. Isn't that strange? When you're younger you still care more about getting your song on than giving a shit, and when you're older you sing along because, dammit, you grew up with these songs and the hell with what some "hip" kid thinks of you singing along to your golden oldies. Or just groove. Anyways, the place filled up out of nowhere and everyone seemed to be getting along in their drinks (my two tickets were long gone), so I had to bust out my shiny new aviators, which I was promptly offered $20 for by some woman who must have been twice my age. I turned her down; I had only paid $8 but I had just got them earlier that day and -- let's be honest -- it's not like they restock these things down at the hardware store. Besides, I thought I could get the gentleman she was with to raise the ante, but to no avail.
Anyways, as I mentioned earlier the crowd's median age was about 35, and everyone seemed to be interacting with something to lose. I wasn't really in the mood to infiltrate a pressurized cluster of women, but I did anyway and proceeded to strike out with a rather striking lady. So it goes. Afterwards, we got up onstage to wish some woman a happy 40th birthday, then we bailed.
At this point it was only about 8:30, so we got home and watched all of Starship Troopers and part of Big Trouble in Little China before getting the call and driving out to Kirkland, which is a suburb of Seattle, to meet up with friends at this bar across from the Bank of America. I don't remember the name of the place, but they had a reasonably pneumatic clientele, and gave us free bottles of water on the way out. And we met one absolute tool, who shall remain nameless, but I got his business card and kept it so I could chuckle to myself all over again the next morning, which I later did.
But back to last night: the bar really bitched out on last call (bars close at 2, the lights went on at 1:15), and at our table were myself, Mat Brown, our friend Eric and his girlfriend Kauilani, a pretty girl named Desiree, and Toolius Maximus. Sorry about that last sentence. So there we were, the five of us, and we're invited back for pie, wine and lasagne at Desiree's place which was great because Eric's really funny when he's drunk. Also, Mat Brown has 20/15 vision so if you ever see him wearing glasses you'll know what he's up to.
Next up: the Fremont Oktoberfest is today! be sure to catch my recap tomorrow, which may be slightly more colorful because I'm really saucy when I'm hungover.
posted by desmond at 1:58 PM
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