Thursday, April 3, 2014

LA face with a Chadron booty.

Nate and I were hanging out last night, rocking beyond reality, and this song came on the radio. I'm a fan of the Dandy Warhols, but I didn't recognize this song. The jangly guitars at the beginning are supes trippy, and were the perfect end to a very odd night.

Yeah, might as well talk about that night. The Sigma Tau Delta (OMG THAT SPELLS STD!!!) open mics at the Broker have been ongoing since I was an undergrad, but they've been wrecked lately by a particular group of teenagers. We can't actually forbid them from coming, or playing, but we've tried to figure out controls to filter out the worst. Everyone can only do two works now, no sign-ups are allowed after 9:00 PM, and as of last night that seems to have worked. There's a couple people that get up and sing a cappella rather badly, people that read truly shitty stories (," stated James), but it's not as bad as it was two weeks ago.

This is important, because two weeks ago it was bad. Like, if 75% of all the performers were Creepy Dave bad. It was so bad that Nate, Shanda and I had running MST3K-style commentary on Facebook about how bad it was. We also resolved that at the next one, we were all going to deliberately suck. Nate was going to read the lyrics from Rebecca Black's "Friday" in the style of William Shatner, and Shanda was going to read the lyrics from "Ice, Ice Baby." And I? I was going to perform "Baby Got Back," a la the Jonathan Coulton version:

The idea here was that we were going to, by being deliberately terrible, make fun of these guys. But what actually ended up happening was that I got the loudest cheers I have ever heard in the Bean Broker in my entire life, and two of the bigger girls there flirted with me and made eyes at me all night... as did their glaring boyfriends. Which would've been a great thing to happen two years ago, and if they weren't probably minors.

It would fucking figure that my most popular performance would be the time I tried to suck on purpose. Maybe that's what I need to do from now on. Maybe next open mic, I'll play a Justin Bieber song and Richard Heule the Third will rub a hate boner out all over the Eagle about it.

But anyway, the night didn't end there. Half the college kids seemed to accompany Nate, Shanda and I to the hookah lounge afterwards. We had to order two hookahs and extra hoses just to accommodate everyone. At some point both Nick and Shanda crotchground me simultaneously, and we also played Cards Against Humanity. When the place closed at midnight, we all went home, and since Nate's crashing at my place until his brakes are fixed, that meant we hung out and rocked beyond reality. At which point the Dandy Warhols song happened.

Hell of a night.

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