Megaleg stomps Tokyo
so after all the chatting Saturday night I get a bunch of comments from one hilaryann.
Me: hey
Her: Hi
Me: so i looked at your myspace. you are in fact one of the greatest women alive on the planet
Her: I'm trying to remember my friends in kzoo who were poets...
Me: lessee here todd bannon, sarah versau, Steve O (i continue to rattle off names) i miss kraftbrau...
Her: Me too, but I do not miss Club Soda. That place was awful..
Me: heh. I think the only other place i went to that wasn't off a highway exit ramp was Shakespeare's Pub
Her: Did you know Rei Robinson in GR? He does slam I think.
Me: nope. Joe the Cabdriver? Joe is insane. Like, probably literally insane but still, interesting guy.
Her: Aha I know of him via friends and the burlesque troop thing
Me: yeah, he started out doing that just as I was moving out of Michigan
Her: That's how I realized you had a gr connection actually, was joethecabdriver.
Me: ooooooh
Me: (I notice her AIM is mobile and has a character restriction) so are you surfing the web tonight from a blackberry/iphone/tricorder or whatev?
Her: Blackberry. No net here yet. Why?
Me: ooo. the modern age confuses me. i am but a simple caveman lawyer. And not really a lawyer.
Her: LOL phil hartman ref ftw.
Me: LOL getting the phil hartman ref for the double win. So whatup with you. What's a hawtasballs slightly nerdy girl like you doing in a town like this, what with your pop culture understanding and your douglas adams love...
Her: Aahhhhh my face is going to blush off. Hahahaha. Having my own snnlc (Saturday Night No Life Club for the uninitiated) at home because I'm broke and work at 6am.
Me: sucks. guy like me sees girl like you and immediately spazzes out. "omgomgomg cute. nerdy. smart. omgomgomg. play it cool...play it cool... *voice cracks* hello!"
Her: Unfair advantage, you can look on myspace etc. But I'm @ home on my bberry with just aim and lj
Me: why sit at home? I'm bored. you're bored. I have money. you have a nearby bar.
I'm buying. we're talking. I'm going home alone.
Her: Hahahaha omg I'm cracking up and flattered. Ok, deal.
Me: HOLY SHIT! That's the first time that's ever worked! "oh hey cool person, let's go get a drink" usually ends in flake. Hence my amazment.
Her: You make it sound like nobody wants to play with you at recess or something haha
Me: Ok, listen Miss David Tennant. Stop going back in time and looking at my childhood
Her: Fiiiine. But I'm keeping the tardis
Me: ...*faints*
So we meet up downtown by the Matador. She immediately declares it a douchebag bar and we walk right on by it. We pass PGE Park and I recognize the fact that we're by The Kingston, a quiet little sports bar. I suggest that we get drinks in there, she agrees. Over the next hour we quaff our alcohol and have our conversation at lightspeed. I swear to god it's like Neo fighting in bullet time as we're trading nerd references, punk references, talking about Michigan and we're each totally getting what each other is saying.
I hear my phone ringing. I pick it up and tell Kim that I'm fine and enjoying my conversation time then hand the phone over to Hilary so that the two can talk briefly. When I get the phone back, the first words out of Kim's mouth are "she sounds cute (wink wink)". I respond with "you have no idea..."
At one point Kim texts me with "so if you want to ditch me to go see Patton Oswalt tomorrow night I'd be totally cool with that". I start cracking the hell up, further interupting the conversation with Hilary asking me to explain why I'm laughing and can't seem to look her in the eye. I tell her "you ever have a friend who says something and you just want to tell them 'GET OUT OF MY BRAIN!'". I then offer to take her out to dinner the next night and then to the show. She sounds really interested but says that she might have plans. She offers to do her darndest to get a raincheck.
It starts to get towards 1am and she has to be to work in the morning so we cut out and start walking. We keep talking, arguing about purity in punk music, our favorite groups, major influences, guilty musical pleasures, it's fantastic. We're not even heading toward her house, we're just talking and rambling. She realizes this about three blocks down and we turn around only to run into the police barricade on Burnside where there was a driveby shooting. We detour and eventually make it back to her place. She offers me a handshake and I pull her into a hug and we declare each other friend. I then practically skip off to my car, her phone number in my phone and soul quite happy.
Sunday I wake up to see that Hilary ran into some difficulties with the bus and getting to work and the whole shebang. Bummer. She texts me around 11am saying that she can't go with me to the show. I ask if she's up to anything else in the next couple of days. She says she'll get back to me and goes offline for the remainder of the day.
I punch in and do my two sessions of poker. 4 hours is spent gaining and then losing 250 bucks. El oh el variance, as we grinders say. I cash out 500 bucks because having money is fun.
Kim is shipping off for the Navy in early October, so her and her boyfriend had a going away lunch to which her boyfriend invited many people. None of her friends showed up through no fault of either Kim or her caring boyfriend. I pick her up, say hi to her man and one friend who DID go out to lunch with them and whisk Kim off for hahas and dick jokes. She was quite upset at the night's events but laughed heartily at the Patton Oswalt show. It was great sitting there and watching the man's routine from the perspective of someone who studies the craft--hearing Bill Hicks, Dave Attell, Sam Kinison all coming through, seeing him throw an idea out and expand upon it, watch him make horrible shit funny. It was realy great. So we laugh heartily and head back to the car. On the way I text Hilary to tell her that I she missed a great show.
Kim wants to head out to Lake Trillium out in Zigzag. It'll be a fucking haul but she's depressed from her friends being assholes and she needs to recharge out in the wilderness (this, I suspect, is due to her in fact being part Elf). The ride out consists of lots of talking about her expectations and hopes for her life with her boyfriend and what a bunch of dickbag friends she has. I spend the time describing Saturday night's activities trying not to exclusively use the letters o, m, and g over and over again. My allergies are bugging me so I'm sniffling a bit. I hear her sniffling too and in my clueless Mike way thing "oh wow, i guess allergies are bad for everyone. hmmm." I finally look over and Kim is crying. I do my best to hug her and comfort her while also driving at 60 mph around twisty wilderness roads.
I told her that if a hockey masked revenant comes storming up out of the water, I'm shoving her towards it and running the other way. This is something we have beguan to refer to as "The Mist" rule. "The Mist" rule began when we were hiking Angel's Rest Trail one incedibly foggy morning and I mentioned that if an extradimensional rift opened up and spewed forth mutant mosquito hell-werewolves, she would be first shoved toward their waiting jaws. No offense but I'm all about the self-preservation. Brave Brave Sir Robin am I.
We drove down the path to the lake and stared off into the dim darkness. No moon. Heavy cloudcover. We stood outside and I hugged her and she snuffled into my chest. I make a good teddy bear sometimes. Kim wanted to get home to her man so we turned around and headed out of there. I got home and passed out for a bit only to have work call around 2am and accuse me of missing my shift. I told them that I wasn't working Sunday morning and they looked a little closer at the schedule. Oops. They asked if I wanted to come in anyway and I told them no. A disappointed ok and *click* went the phone on the other end. Not long after that my roomate got home from his weekend camping trip. I jawed with him for a bit, poured myself a scotch and grabbed a cigar before going outside to mope about not hearing anything back from Hilary all day and muse about the state of being a writer/performer and the toll it takes on a person trying to make deeply depressing shit funny.
Because I know you're thinking it: yeah. Sad clown. Fuck you.
Me: hey
Her: Hi
Me: so i looked at your myspace. you are in fact one of the greatest women alive on the planet
Her: I'm trying to remember my friends in kzoo who were poets...
Me: lessee here todd bannon, sarah versau, Steve O (i continue to rattle off names) i miss kraftbrau...
Her: Me too, but I do not miss Club Soda. That place was awful..
Me: heh. I think the only other place i went to that wasn't off a highway exit ramp was Shakespeare's Pub
Her: Did you know Rei Robinson in GR? He does slam I think.
Me: nope. Joe the Cabdriver? Joe is insane. Like, probably literally insane but still, interesting guy.
Her: Aha I know of him via friends and the burlesque troop thing
Me: yeah, he started out doing that just as I was moving out of Michigan
Her: That's how I realized you had a gr connection actually, was joethecabdriver.
Me: ooooooh
Me: (I notice her AIM is mobile and has a character restriction) so are you surfing the web tonight from a blackberry/iphone/tricorder or whatev?
Her: Blackberry. No net here yet. Why?
Me: ooo. the modern age confuses me. i am but a simple caveman lawyer. And not really a lawyer.
Her: LOL phil hartman ref ftw.
Me: LOL getting the phil hartman ref for the double win. So whatup with you. What's a hawtasballs slightly nerdy girl like you doing in a town like this, what with your pop culture understanding and your douglas adams love...
Her: Aahhhhh my face is going to blush off. Hahahaha. Having my own snnlc (Saturday Night No Life Club for the uninitiated) at home because I'm broke and work at 6am.
Me: sucks. guy like me sees girl like you and immediately spazzes out. "omgomgomg cute. nerdy. smart. omgomgomg. play it cool...play it cool... *voice cracks* hello!"
Her: Unfair advantage, you can look on myspace etc. But I'm @ home on my bberry with just aim and lj
Me: why sit at home? I'm bored. you're bored. I have money. you have a nearby bar.
I'm buying. we're talking. I'm going home alone.
Her: Hahahaha omg I'm cracking up and flattered. Ok, deal.
Me: HOLY SHIT! That's the first time that's ever worked! "oh hey cool person, let's go get a drink" usually ends in flake. Hence my amazment.
Her: You make it sound like nobody wants to play with you at recess or something haha
Me: Ok, listen Miss David Tennant. Stop going back in time and looking at my childhood
Her: Fiiiine. But I'm keeping the tardis
Me: ...*faints*
So we meet up downtown by the Matador. She immediately declares it a douchebag bar and we walk right on by it. We pass PGE Park and I recognize the fact that we're by The Kingston, a quiet little sports bar. I suggest that we get drinks in there, she agrees. Over the next hour we quaff our alcohol and have our conversation at lightspeed. I swear to god it's like Neo fighting in bullet time as we're trading nerd references, punk references, talking about Michigan and we're each totally getting what each other is saying.
I hear my phone ringing. I pick it up and tell Kim that I'm fine and enjoying my conversation time then hand the phone over to Hilary so that the two can talk briefly. When I get the phone back, the first words out of Kim's mouth are "she sounds cute (wink wink)". I respond with "you have no idea..."
At one point Kim texts me with "so if you want to ditch me to go see Patton Oswalt tomorrow night I'd be totally cool with that". I start cracking the hell up, further interupting the conversation with Hilary asking me to explain why I'm laughing and can't seem to look her in the eye. I tell her "you ever have a friend who says something and you just want to tell them 'GET OUT OF MY BRAIN!'". I then offer to take her out to dinner the next night and then to the show. She sounds really interested but says that she might have plans. She offers to do her darndest to get a raincheck.
It starts to get towards 1am and she has to be to work in the morning so we cut out and start walking. We keep talking, arguing about purity in punk music, our favorite groups, major influences, guilty musical pleasures, it's fantastic. We're not even heading toward her house, we're just talking and rambling. She realizes this about three blocks down and we turn around only to run into the police barricade on Burnside where there was a driveby shooting. We detour and eventually make it back to her place. She offers me a handshake and I pull her into a hug and we declare each other friend. I then practically skip off to my car, her phone number in my phone and soul quite happy.
Sunday I wake up to see that Hilary ran into some difficulties with the bus and getting to work and the whole shebang. Bummer. She texts me around 11am saying that she can't go with me to the show. I ask if she's up to anything else in the next couple of days. She says she'll get back to me and goes offline for the remainder of the day.
I punch in and do my two sessions of poker. 4 hours is spent gaining and then losing 250 bucks. El oh el variance, as we grinders say. I cash out 500 bucks because having money is fun.
Kim is shipping off for the Navy in early October, so her and her boyfriend had a going away lunch to which her boyfriend invited many people. None of her friends showed up through no fault of either Kim or her caring boyfriend. I pick her up, say hi to her man and one friend who DID go out to lunch with them and whisk Kim off for hahas and dick jokes. She was quite upset at the night's events but laughed heartily at the Patton Oswalt show. It was great sitting there and watching the man's routine from the perspective of someone who studies the craft--hearing Bill Hicks, Dave Attell, Sam Kinison all coming through, seeing him throw an idea out and expand upon it, watch him make horrible shit funny. It was realy great. So we laugh heartily and head back to the car. On the way I text Hilary to tell her that I she missed a great show.
Kim wants to head out to Lake Trillium out in Zigzag. It'll be a fucking haul but she's depressed from her friends being assholes and she needs to recharge out in the wilderness (this, I suspect, is due to her in fact being part Elf). The ride out consists of lots of talking about her expectations and hopes for her life with her boyfriend and what a bunch of dickbag friends she has. I spend the time describing Saturday night's activities trying not to exclusively use the letters o, m, and g over and over again. My allergies are bugging me so I'm sniffling a bit. I hear her sniffling too and in my clueless Mike way thing "oh wow, i guess allergies are bad for everyone. hmmm." I finally look over and Kim is crying. I do my best to hug her and comfort her while also driving at 60 mph around twisty wilderness roads.
I told her that if a hockey masked revenant comes storming up out of the water, I'm shoving her towards it and running the other way. This is something we have beguan to refer to as "The Mist" rule. "The Mist" rule began when we were hiking Angel's Rest Trail one incedibly foggy morning and I mentioned that if an extradimensional rift opened up and spewed forth mutant mosquito hell-werewolves, she would be first shoved toward their waiting jaws. No offense but I'm all about the self-preservation. Brave Brave Sir Robin am I.
We drove down the path to the lake and stared off into the dim darkness. No moon. Heavy cloudcover. We stood outside and I hugged her and she snuffled into my chest. I make a good teddy bear sometimes. Kim wanted to get home to her man so we turned around and headed out of there. I got home and passed out for a bit only to have work call around 2am and accuse me of missing my shift. I told them that I wasn't working Sunday morning and they looked a little closer at the schedule. Oops. They asked if I wanted to come in anyway and I told them no. A disappointed ok and *click* went the phone on the other end. Not long after that my roomate got home from his weekend camping trip. I jawed with him for a bit, poured myself a scotch and grabbed a cigar before going outside to mope about not hearing anything back from Hilary all day and muse about the state of being a writer/performer and the toll it takes on a person trying to make deeply depressing shit funny.
Because I know you're thinking it: yeah. Sad clown. Fuck you.