Big news in ann-frank.diaryland.com-land: I found an ATM that doesn’t charge any extra fees to use it.
I am ecstatic.
Look, you find happiness where you can, ok?
Anyway, pop show Friday night was interesting. Finally saw The Mates of State and they were lovely, lovely, lovely,
And loud. Very loud. That Yamaha keyboard kicked my tinnitis into full volume. But completely worth it in every way ‘cept …
Note to indie hipsters: Crack a fucking smile, it won’t hurt. Really.
Seriously, there we all were listening to this wonderful wacky-keyboard pop with all of these screwball harmonies belted out by these two totally endearing people, then you look around and …
Oh. My. God.
It was like a synchronized stoicism competition and Chicago was going for the Gold.
Bend you knees! Mouth some lyrics! Do something, fer crying out loud! No one’s looking! No one cares!
One thing you learn over the years is people are much too concerned about themselves to be worrying about you – so would it kill you to just give up the pretension and good time, already?
But you know, I’ve got official Back in The Day Perspective to work with, so it’s easy now that I am old.
Clearly, I no longer choose to carry the Too Cool For School Brigade card in my pocket anymore.
To illustrate, a story:
I went to the show with my friend/boss/cube-mate Matt and his former house-mate Tom.
Tom is a total indie poster boy.
Hair’s clean, but not too clean and properly mussed. Clothes look like they were bought at a thrift store, but most of it was probably purchased in some sort of mall-type arena.
And of course, there’s the closet full of ironic t-shirts.
So, we are all at the show and I am hanging back with Matt watching Appleseed Cast *. Tom has run into some of his hipster friends, so he is in front of me, chatting with them.
And one of the people he is talking to is this girl who is trying really hard to pull off her very own rock-star vibe - who will not stop staring at me . First my shoes. Then my pants. Then my shirt. Next my bag.
So, next this particularly dim lass introduces herself to me and she’s really drunk but whatever, and we make like, loud but cordial chit-chat for about 3 seconds and she asked me how I know Tom and Matt and I told her I’ve known them a long time when all of the sudden she makes this totally huge and unbelievable leap of faith and says:
“So, yeah, like, Matt’s your husband, right?”
And I am all, “What?! huh? What are you…? No, no. God. No.”
People. Work with me here - Matt was like, 100 feet from me the entire time and there were absolutely, positively no social cues What. So. Ever. given that would lead anyone to believe this.
So, why is it such a big deal? Why is it just clap-your-hands-spray-your-computer monitor-with-a-fine-mist-of-spittle-funny?
I will tell you why.
Old girl took one look at me – the girl who does not care – the girl without the dark-rimmed glasses and fun & flip baby-t and fashionable footwear. Then old girl took one look at Matt whose shirt was tucked in and whose hair was just a little too neat . Then she looked at Tom, the indie poster boy.
Then girl genius laid down some serious deductions and came up with this Nobel prize winning theorem:
Tom + 2 “normal” looking people = oh, look honey, isn’t that nice Tom dragged his two old and married friends out of T.G.I. Friday’s for the night and took ‘em to the cool little rock show. Isn’t that nice?
Hey girl wonder, I know you gotta get back to the lab, but you might want to just think a little bit before you open your mouth, k? Because quite frankly, I don’t want to have to laugh in your face. Because you.....you funny.
Honestly! I wish I would have said, “yeah, weirdest thing, me and the husband were just are Chilies, eating some wings, listening to some Buffet and Matt here had just finished slamming his third purple hooter when we ran into Tom, and Tom was just so nice he let us tag along to this little show. Aren’t the lights pretty? Does this lip gloss make me look fat? Wow, it’s loud, huh? Hey, wanna go to the bathroom together?”
So. Fucking. Funny.
Man, I love mixing it up with the scenester kiddies.
* who quite frankly I did not care for, which was confirmed when they finally got off the stage I was thinking “Whooo, that was a long set, “ and Matt was like, you know they were only on for about 45 minutes, right? Their only saving grace: if you stood in back where I was and squinted over the wacky-white boy afro of the fella in front of me, the lead singer looked a wee bit like Jason Lee a la “Vanilla Sky” and quite frankly, I could always use a little more Jason Lee in my life.