Dear IB Diary,
Denvermolorado
Yesterday was great! I was all abouts in the Southwest. I landed in Denver, where my friend greeted me by texting me a picture of a blue-suited furry she saw at the airport. “No head, though,” she said ruefully. I saw skatepunks and a cowboy-looking guy within seconds of getting off the plane. I was worried about turbulence, because Denver is infamous for rocky landings, but it was fine. My stomach didn’t even drop.
We scrammed up to Boulder, and I found the place where I got my septum pierced thirteen years ago. If my septum piercing was a person, it would be starting high school. I am so proud of you, septum. I never wear it down lately, though, because I feel like with the pink hair and the labret, it all gets a little busy. You don’t want people on the street shouting at you, “Hey, freak, get back into your clown car.” Of course, that sort of thing never happens in Seattle anyway. I am invisible there.
I would classify Boulder WildStyle as jeans and flat hair versus gargantuan Nicole Richie purses with lots of gold and plastic details. In fact, I’m guessing those lil college girls I saw hauling those around could just crawl into one of their purses if they wanted a nap or to hide from someone. I was so stupid–I just had a backpack in college.
Why Wyoming? Why Not?
I got an email from a smart-assed acquaintance yesterday: “Remind me why you are in Wyoming?” WY NOT? I can’t play the role of “Tres Sophistikay Jerk Amuses Herself Among the Rubes,” because I am a rube at heart, really. I interrupted a perfectly good conversation last night to go “WOW! Stars! We don’t have those at home!” My host has loaned me Choosing Civility, by my next babydaddy PM Forni, because being scolded by the self-righteous makes me drool a little. In a good way. So I need to read it, obviously. I’m hoping it wasn’t a hint, but we can all brush up on our civility. Right, Assface?
I am here visiting a friend, of course. Plus it is nice to get out of Rancho Asshole for a while. I put many delicate and expensive things on the floor yesterday, and when I got up, none of them were destroyed. You get tired, so you forget what you’re doing, and you set something down. The next thing you know, the sleeves have been sheared off your favorite shirt. I have one of those monkeys who believes the Pursuit of Science is more important than listening to me, Senora Killjoy.
We had a leisurely dinner and as it got later and later I had that feeling I have almost every night, like the clock is running out. You know that feeling, where you know your lil assmittens are going to be up by seven ham, whether you’ve had eight or three hours of sleep. But no! Opportunities for sleeping in here in SingleLadyport abound. Too bad I woke up at Strudel o’clock anyway, after being up for twenty-four hours. But I feel good.
Laramie Nightlife
The inhabitants of Laramie, Laramians (Lair-RAM-e-ans) are not the gentle and timid creatures the inhabitants of, say, Canandia. They are a friendly and gregarious people.
Nightlife: I have two choices for you. There is actually a choice three, but it involves teen pregnancy, and at this point it’s too late for me to claim that I don’t know where babies come from.
1. Twenty-Four Hour Walmart
We needed “D” batteries for the amazing inflato-bed I slept on. I haven’t been in a Walmart for years. We ran into a man who was covered in tattoos and asked my where I got mine. We got to talking about Seattle, and he highly recommended Mr. D’s in the Pike Place Market for Greek food. He said that if he saw me there, he would buy me lunch. Alright!
He also mentioned that if I wanted a tattoo while I was in town, I should hit the Tattoo Underground. He showed me some of the work there, which was very good, by pulling up his shirt.
“See!” my friend said, as we walked away. “People are chatty here. Isn’t it weird?”
2. Drankin
Batteries obtained, we hit the Library Bar (motto: “Don’t lie to your mom. Tell her you’re at the Library.”). The bartenders were very friendly. They also had an internet jukebox, so we were able to enjoy Amy Winehouse and “P.I.M.P.” by Fiddy. I also snuck in some Misfits, which made the friendliest bartender happy and resulted in free sodas.
“I guarantee you are the only person here drinking one of those,” my friend said.
First I ordered a sidecar, which was met with the response, “A sidecar of what?” It turned out well, because the martinis were very delicious. Usually I stop at two, and I did last night as well, but with very different results due to tiredness and altitude. Whoa.
My DD and I drove to the other side of town where we parked in front of the Cowboy Bar, where we were greeted with, “Goood evening ladies! Watch out for the puddle of puke!” We declined to go in, and instead walked to the Buckhorn. It was hella slammed with little kids, so we just went home after that, to some kind of delicious cheese that was like a morbier (actual origin forgotten) and my friend made cupcakes.
In Other News
My homie JS sends me this video: “Sweep the Leg,” by No More Kings. Ever wonder what would have happened if the Karate Kid would have lost? Me neither. But this is fun anywayz, and that Macchio is still cute. Bonus: cameo by Mr. Belding.
Mmm, cupcakes, after-bar food of champions.
It’s like you were in downtown Calgary. Freaky.
The name “Library Bar” totally kicks ass! What a great idea! Maybe there’s a “Friend House” and a “I Got Stuck In Traffic” out there! Glad you’re having fun, and cupcakes sound better than my salad I’m scarfing down right now.
Time has not been kind to Belding.
I am always blown away by your beautiful hair. It looks so pretty! I’ve been wanting to color my hair a crazy beautiful color fo years now, and now that I can actually do it, I am hesitating. But I still want to! Anyways, sounds like you had fun. It’s always great to get away from the normal routine.
oh my gosh! You were like, 20 miles from my house!
Found you on Sweetney’s blog. Gotta say, you make me happy. And back to your regularly non creepy scheduled progamming.
I thought that IB link would be attached to an Irritable Bowel Syndrome website. But it turned out to be even better!
For the Misfits, I’d have shouted you at least a glass of Franzia.
It so isn’t me. How dare you?
Delightful! I have linked you.
Talk about invisible, you’re fading away, there, Skinny Bones.
There is, or used to be, a Library Bar in Atlanta.
I wonder if they are a chain?
If plywood decor, sad pool tables with cigarette burns, and treacherous stairs (you’re sober and you fell down the stairs? Too bad, but please stick around and watch the drunk people do it all night, it’s our idea of free entertainment!) sound familiar, it may well be.
Also, remind me to tell the story of The World’s Ugliest Jesus Clock. The pretty, pretty princess pink one is, in comparison, the most beautimous, gorgerundous clock in the known universe in comparison. Exposure to The World’s Ugliest Jesus Clock was known to stun the viewer’s taste level for several hours after viewing it, leading to wise decisions such as dining at McDonald’s non-ironically and not in a state of desperation, and sort of thinking tapered acid-washed jeans might not be THAT bad, after all.
Beware The World’s Ugliest Jesus Clock.
“Talk about invisible, you’re fading away, there, Skinny Bones.”
O helo thur, my new BFF.