7.29.2006

cellos, really?

Last night Baby Africa called me and invited me out on the town with him, Derek, and a couple of their friends. We planned to meet at Surfside 7, which I had always thought was a store that marketed to the 'What's up Bra?' crowd, but actually is a snooty hipster bar in the vein of The Replay Lounge, a snooty hipster bar in Lawrence where I used to hang out. A lot. So Derek and I were the first ones there and since the waitress couldn't be bothered to stop at our table, I decided to serve myself and headed to the bar.

I actually got the up and down from the bartender and she waited about five minutes before she would acknowledge my presence and deign to serve me. Ahhhhhhhhh. Feels just like home. Finally, once the cool kids arrived, the waitress decided we were worth her time and we were able to order food.

After devouring two huge pizzas and consuming a not small amount of Fat Tire and Skinny Dip (which at $2 a pint, how could we not?), we headed to The Aggie, a once-upon-a-time-movie-theater-turned-concert-venue (also reminiscent of another Lawrence hang out, The Granada), to revel in the music-making of Matson Jones, a local band consisting of two cellos, a stand-up bass and some drums. Are you thinking we've gotten old and stodgy and now prefer the symphony over rock? Guess again. These kids tore off the roof. With cellos. It was awesome. Check 'em out on e-music. Of course, I'm a sucker for any band that can kick it with stringed instruments, so I've something of a bias.

The only downside was that I ran into someone I really didn't want to talk to, a guy who works for one of my company's clients. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a nice guy and all, but I barely know him and it's weird when people you only know in a professional setting see you outside the office. It's like they've caught you standing there naked or looking at inappropriate porn. So, he comes up, shakes my hand, we chat for a little and then. Insert awkward silence here. If you know me, you've probably come to realize that I'm a social retard. So, normally when I'm in this type of situation, I like to breeze in, make a little small talk, and then find an excuse to bail. Since I was the one with the established post and he was the one walking by, I figured he would be the one to move on. Um. No. He stood there by me, not saying a word, for what felt like a really, really long year. Or two. I tried. Really. I did. I asked him all of the questions I could think of, and then, nothing. Thankfully, Baby Africa came along and saved me. That guy can talk to anyone.

In spite of that one minor issue the show was great and fun times were had by all.

I'm gonna go take a little nap now.

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