Monday, November 17, 2008

Maybe I won't die alone (but if I do, it might be because of Judgy McMeanspirited rants like this)

Well then; would you look at that. Another day of NaBlo; another post going in just under the wire. And on a week night no less. I really ought to try sleeping a proper and sufficient number of hours one of these nights just to see if it's at all possible for me to wake up at 6:30 feeling anything close to well rested. One of these nights. Not tonight, clearly.

Tonight my favorite coworker and I went downtown to see Ingrid Michaelson at the Pantages. I believe it was my coworker's second trip to Minneapolis in eight years, but she was happy to visit the big shiny city with me anyway. I sort of wish that for just a minute or two, I could see myself the way my coworker sees me. For some reason, she genuinely thinks I am an extremely hip, stylish, modern girl about town, and it amuses me no end. I have no idea where she got this impression, although I suppose that in our office full of middle-aged suburban white men, it's safe to say I probably am among the five hippest people in the group. That's sort of like noticing that I'm one of the five skinniest people at Old Country Buffet, though. It's really not a representative sample.

Anyway, we had a lovely time at the show. There were two opening acts, both of whom I would highly recommend checking out should you happen to notice they're coming to your town. We missed all but the last two songs of David Ford's set because we were too busy chatting and finishing our dinner and our martinis down the block, but what I heard was quite lovely and I'm sure he was a crowd pleaser. Next up was Newton Faulkner, who was nearly part musician, part standup comic. I do wonder if his is a show you can see more than once or if he gives crowds the same seemingly spontaneous amusing banter every time, but as this was the first time I've seen him, I should just appreciate his delightfully charming set and not think about that.

When Ingrid came on, I actually worried for a bit that the headliner would be my least favorite part of the show. Her entire band looked liked they'd just stepped out of the JC Penney commercial that made her first radio hit famous last year--all trendy boots with skinny jeans, whimsical scarves draped casually around their shoulders. Her drummer was wearing a v-neck sweater over a button-up oxford. A V-NECK SWEATER, people. On a drummer. He looked so clean-cut it was almost unsettling.

I realize it is unfair to be annoyed by someone simply because she can pull off a jaunty tweed hat without looking ridiculous, but it doesn't matter, as I got over it fairly quickly. It turns out Ingrid Michaelson is actually more than a bit of a nut. She's not just a pretty girl with a pretty voice; she's also warped and hilarious and I recommend you see her live the next chance you get, too.

This story is not in keeping with my NaBlo theme, of course, as it doesn't involve a date (unless you consider my coworker my date for this evening, which I don't). I do feel like I was on the date with the couple directly in front of me, however, since their heads were fused together like the conjoined twins I saw in Philadelphia's Mutter Museum last year for nearly the duration of the show (separated only when they instead decided to make out 12 inches away from me or simply stare longingly into each other's eyes). Ahem. Dear hoodie guy and hoodie girl directly in front of me in the balcony: I'm happy you've found love with a similarly homeless-looking person. Really I am. But if you could keep your hands and faces out of each other's greasy hair for the duration of the show, I'd sleep a little easier tonight. It's not just me; I think there's a health code violation to consider here. Thank you.

All right then. I have about 30 seconds to hit "Publish Post" on this before I inadvertently disqualify myself from this post-every-day nonsense, and since it's 30 seconds to midnight, that means it's entirely past my bedtime as well. Tomorrow, more tales from my own sad dating past and not the gleeful dating present of that frumpy and disheveled couple at Pantages. Yippee.


Maddie said...

I was about to type that you are too a hip, stylish and modern girl about town...but then I realized you aren't down with greasy hair. I am also not cool with dirty hair. For once, I am so proud to be uncool.

Noelle said...

I love it when people think I'm hipper than I really am. It's so much better when they think I'm more homeless than I really am.

Alice said...

my coworkers don't necessarily think i'm hip & cool... but they think i'm one of two "wild and fun" single girls in the office, so they always want to hear my weekend recaps, as if i'm going to share my juicy one-night-stands with them. uh, if i'd had any recently. which i haven't, because i am way more boring than they think.

Stefanie said...

Miss Pants--In my haste to post quickly, I don't think I explained that very well. The couple in front of me were not dirty-looking because they were hip; they were dirty-looking because they were dirty. Seeing as Ingrid gets the most airplay around here on our safest and most vanilla "adult contemporary" station, it was actually a pretty diverse demographic at that show, with a decidedly low percentage of hipsters in the mix. The couple in front of me was rounding out the "frumpy 20-something townie" segment of the crowd. (I'm going to stop categorizing people now, before I'm forced to figure out which segment *I* was part of.)

Noelle--True enough. I'd take hip over homeless for sure.

Alice--I have some friends like that, too. I think they're disappointed when the ask to hear about my "exciting single girl life," and all I have for them is, "Um, well, I made a frozen pizza and watched a Netflix movie last night..."

Courtney said...

Eewww, PDA is the worst, especially when it's right in front of you and you can't get away from it. Seriously, people, there's a concert going on. Make out later.

Anonymous said...

I don't think I have ever seen a preppy drummer before!

Anonymous said...

I'm going to rethink my hoody.

At least on the days where I've been rolling around in the dirt.

steve said...

I have a sneaking suspicion that most of us would have a bit more self esteem if we were able to see ourselves as others see us.

The crusty PDA couple in front of you being an obvious exception.

Mickey said...

Is Old Country Buffet still around?

Courtney and I saw a hoodie-wearing couple walking down the street the other day locked at the lips. Kissing while walking. And then the guy (I think it was the guy; they sort of looked the same in their hoodies and jeans), turned and spat on the sidewalk. Classy.

Aaron said...

See, that's the kind of crap that makes me not even want to go to concerts anymore (that, and I'm old and fussy). The last show I went to, there was the most obnoxious grinding/dancing going on two rows in front of us to the lest sexy music imaginable. And I don't mean that as a knock at The Raconteurs, but really, people. Oh, and there was this fat chick headbanging and making rock fingers and...just. Ugh.