I'd tell you about last night, but it was actually too much fun to put down in any sort of legible form. Way too much stuff happened, and it was all way too blurry. :) But I have "soft hands" and I looked "fucking hot" in my powder blue suitcoat. Thank you very much.
Actually, I'll try.
The night started with Spike and Mike's Sick and Twisted Animation Festival at the Alamo Drafthouse. Kareem, Wes, Colleen, and I were all in attendance. I hate people who say shit like this, but I'd have to say that it was much funnier last year. Ah, well. The Pixar film about birds was very good, at least. The hands-down highlight, though, was Rejected, by Don Hertzfeldt. Truly funny, and it actually ends on a powerful, disturbing note. I won't describe any more, as it wouldn't do it justice.
Colleen departed afterwards, and we hit Katz's. Ah, maybe I should take a moment to say how we were dressed. Wes was wearing his kilt, Kareem was dressed total plaid 70s style (complete with hairy chest), and I was wearing my powder blue suitcoat and patented silly hat.
Katz's was uneventful, but it was our last peaceful moment of the night. We went to Maggie Mae's, where a mediocre band was covering the Stones. Some lady said that we looked "super funky" and told us that we had "huge balls". EEK. Then Ralph Machio showed up and insisted that Kareem was Jewish. I don't make this stuff up, but chances are that he wasn't REALLY Ralph Machio.
We headed to Fat Tuesday's, where some gawd-awful funny band was covering bad early nineties songs. All the guys in the band were beefy, well-groomed, and wearing shiny shirts. I kept screaming out "GOO GOO DOLLS!", but they never honored my request. They did, however, play "Cumbersome" by 7 Mary Three, which just about did me in with laughter. The details get fuzzy, but I met two Jessicas at this place, one of which made the comments about my hands. *blush*.
B. D. Riley's had yet another Irish band playing, and the fiddle player (who was also in PubCrawler), did a solo while standing on the bar. He also got in a heated debate with Kareem on when the first Black Sabbath album came out. Was it '68, or '70? The suspense is killing me. Knowing Kareem as I do, I can only assume that he was right.
Blah blah blah. Bars bars bars. We ended up at Opal Divine's, where Sara was hanging out, patiently waiting for our arrival. We drank some more, smoked peach cigars, and then it really gets hazy. I wasn't feeling too good, and somehow I ended up at home. Everyone came over, hung out, and talked about stuff while I slept.
See, it still doesn't sound like that much fun. I wonder what I could say to properly convey the insanity. Ah, well. If you'll excuse me, I have to go find the battery to my phone.