Friday
My weekend began on Friday, after returning from Ankeny to see my brother, the one who plays the French horn, perform SCIBA (South Central Iowa Bandmaster's Association) with the high school's concert band. They were pretty good. I was impressed.
About 15 minutes after I got home, which was late because there was shopping and fooding to be had after SCIBA time, I got a call from Supergirl*, who was masquerading as KT, as she called on KT's phone. After she threatened to streak through my house, I went to KT's house, where KT, Supergirl, and Supergirl's friend with curly hair were waiting for B to get home. We were going to Des Moines to chill at someone's house — yet another co-worker of KT et al., who will be called T.
And then we had to go to this so-called "Irish bar" called Kelly's on Beaver (because it's on Beaver Ave.) and retreive some random other co-worker. Supposedly we were just going to be in and out, and then we were just going to have a round of drinks, but sometime around 1:30 we realized that we were going nowhere fast. Though Supergirl had promised we'd be quick, we'd been there for far too long. I mean, honestly, it was the worst Irish bar ever — I'm pretty sure that the only thing that might've made it seem Irish was the abundance of neon clovers and Guinness. And they had horrible drinks. My "sex on the beach" tasted like
We got at T's by about 2 a.m. or so. She ushered us into her living room, where she introduced us to her partner**, turned on some R & B, and told us to have a seat. She has white furniture. And three kids, one of which is three years old. And yet her furniture remains white ... the coffee table strategically placed in front of the larger sofa must be a very good deterrant. We talked for a very long time about nothing in particular, though the conversation always managed to get back to troubleshooting the Blackberry phone (which is their job and hence how they know one another).
T told us about having people over not long ago and how some poor 'mo couldn't function after drinking some Chicago-style "beverages" (read: strong as hell) and when he had to, um, use the facilities, he needed help. Lots. And then after five minutes or so, when T asked if he was done yet, he whined, "It isn't done peeing yet." Or something to that effect. And also kept shouting something about reading the teleprompter.
After half an hour or so, S showed up. (Yes, another troubleshooter of Blackberry-ness.) We shot the breeze for a while, and she decided to call L, who came over at around 3:15.
L is a freaking riot. Everything he said was hilarious and ironic and wonderful. He doesn't know it, but he's now my idol. To be perfectly honest, L reminds me a whole lot of Dustro, except that he's older and much more cynical. (Hard to believe, I know.)
At one point, we realized that it was after 5 in the morning and that we should probably shove off. Of course, the problem with being awake for so long is that you realize you're hungry. So we bid S, T, and T's partner adieu, and L led us to a Perkins, which is near where he lives. We got down with our hungry selves and ordered breakfast while L regaled us with tales of his life, including the time he didn't get any action in Minneapolis (which is why he doesn't like the city now) and had to make up a person so that his friends didn't think he was slacking. His faux lover was Vladimir, who uttered the phrase, "I will break you." I believe he was a hockey player. Five years later, he was helping a friend move, and in the car the friend started talking about Minneapolis and how he was jealous of Vladimir and L said, "Oh, honey, I didn't tell you? I made him up!" And L's friend was mad at him for about 10 minutes.
I got home at 7:45 or so that morning. My mom thought I was crazy (and I'm sure she thinks we were actually out drinking all night and too drunk to drive home. Because really, that's all I ever do anymore. Sheesh, woman).
Saturday
So then Saturday night (you didn't think that's all there was to my weekend, did you?) B and KT and I decided to go to the Ritual Cafe in Des Moines (where Beth and Sarah and I saw Ellis) because we saw that a band would be there and (the best part) there was no cover. So we went to see the Soapbox Prophets. I'd vaguely heard of them some time ago and thought, eh, why not? They're pretty good, it turns out. It's difficult to describe their sound: acoustic but not folksy, rock but not roll, plus one country song.
Little did we know that it was a BYOS*** party. For the most part, they were well-behaved, though there were a couple of them that were just tired of being there. I think that they were just there for the cake, to be honest. It was one of the band members' birthday, and I think that some of his family came to cheer him on. (And who can beat free entertainment on a Saturday night?)
After a while, there was an intermission. I wandered around for a bit, as I'd been sitting down the whole time and knitting (a small pouch for my KO bag). And who did I see? Someone from Luther, of course. A friend of mine from my class, who'd been my friend in about second grade until I moved to W'set, at which point I didn't see her until we both miraculously ended up attending Luther. She was just chilling in town with a friend, back for spring break from Chicago and library science school. Suh-weet!
So we listened to the rest of the band's set, then went home. B decided that we need to start hanging out at the Ritual Cafe more often. I agreed, for a few reasons. It's nice, they have good chai, and it's smoke free. That means I don't end up smelling like an ashtray. Ah, the possibilities.
And that was my weekend in a nutshell.
* My new tequila-loving friend, henceforth to be known as Supergirl.
** I swear, since hanging out with B and KT more, the amount of 'mos I know must have at least doubled.
*** Bring Your Own Shittypants. By shittypants, I mean baby. And by baby, I mean family. And we're not talking the 'mo sort of family here, folks.
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