cass mccombs.

On Wednesday night, a girlfriend and I ventured out to the 7th Street Entry for the Cass McCombs show.

Overall, we really enjoyed the show. Here are some highlights of our adventure in tunesville:

1) Frank Fairfield - the fiddler. An amazing musician who opened for Cass and played some awesome folky goodness. Not just on the fiddle, but the banjo as well. His voice and overall demeanor were straight out of a different time period.

My gal pal and I were johnny on the spot and arrived at 7th Street awkwardly early. We grabbed a couple beers and made our way to some stools with a primo vantage point of the stage. Right next to us were a couple guys. They were cute enough, one was even really cute.

Immediately, we enjoyed their witty remark to us about the Time Traveler that was setting up his vintage mic on stage. Later when good ol' Frank - aka the 'Time Traveler' - took to the stage, something else occurred to me. Not only did he LOOK like he was from a different time period, it's because he was.  He looks identical to Mark Twain. Maybe it was him. Think I am exaggerating? Ok. Decide for yourself.


MARK

FRANK

2. Cass & Company: What a good looking bunch. The boys took the stage around 10:30P. We were a couple beers in and I had even attempted to flirt with the cuter of the two boys next to us. My gal pal even thought he was interested in me. This was only after we analyzed and watched the pair closely to be sure they were not in fact on a date. We decided they were not. Flirting attempts were back on.

3. In addition to the music, there was extraordinarily GREAT people watching. What a crowd! We had all types joining Cass in the crowd, more hippy types, your expected hipsters, us, couples, youngsters, oldsters. We decided there was an interesting smell in the room with such a melting pot of individuals, I described the undeniable smell as 'dirty fart.'

We had a lot of fun watching the crowd, maybe too much fun. And had some 'go to' people to keep a particularly close eye on. But our favorite couple by FAR was the girl with the aggressive bun on top of her head and her ginger / clifford like boyfriend. I have never seen a couple interact like this -- ALL over each other. Hugging. Swaying back and forth as if they were one body. It would have been cute, except it wasn't. It was like a commercial for Lifestyles. 

Perhaps the most confusing part of the night was when that cute guy that had been chatting me up just up and left. I was convinced that there was going to be at least an exchange of numbers happening for me by the end of the night. 

A surprise twist was the very funny guy sitting on the other side of my friend. He enjoyed all of our commentary and even participated. He even affectionately referred to our favorite couples as 'that couple from the Titanic'.  

All in all, we deemed the night a success. We heard some spectacular music and enjoyed a lot of laughs. Not too shabby for a Wednesday.

puka shells.

Last night while at the gym, I saw 'Puka Shells' again. Let me backup.

Puka Shells is a young, good looking guy I regularly see at the Y. I happen to find Puka Shells very atheistically pleasing -- but he wears a puka shells necklace. Someone needs to tell him. I guarantee he did NOT just get back from a fun little getaway to Hawaii nor is it the year 2000. The last time those WERE cool or remotely acceptable was by Randall "Pink" Floyd in Dazed and Confused. 

It is sad though. Puka Shells is probably a really nice guy. He is also hot. Is it my job to try and start dating Puka Shells and then tell him that he needs to retire that tacky accessory? I am not sure. This leads me to a question that has plagued male and female gym attendees for decades. How do you start a conversation with someone who you find attractive at the gym?

I've created the following scenario in my mind:
We are looking at each others reflections in the darkened glass while we are both running, I know you see me and I see you. We are clearly checking each other out. But then what? We both end our sessions on the treadmills. I say 'Hey guy, were you staring at my rack in the mirror just then? It's okay because I was checking you out too. Want to go out'?

What is WRONG with me. Why are interactions with guys so awkward.  I often feel like I am missing  a gene or something that prohibits me from being able to engage in a normal conversation with men. Sometimes I feel like Shrek, not lady Shrek but regular Shrek.

I think I will start making some bold moves at the gym. Try and boost my confidence. I'll start by maybe flashing a smile to Puka Shells or just flash him. Or perhaps if I were to do Humpilates at the gym it would be a great ice breaker! It's a long one, but worth it - enjoy!

living alone - part 1.

I have chosen to live alone. Don't get me wrong - it's not like I really HAD a choice. When the time came to move out, there wasn't anyone else in the market to shack up with. 6 months prior I had broken up with my boyfriend of 2 1/2 years and my parents decided for me that it was time for their baby bird to flap her wings. That's a tale for a different time. This was a very scary, frustrating time in my life. I had no clue as to who I was, what I wanted and where I was going. Wait -- still figuring that out.

At the time of my journey into the world of apartment hunting, I was a year or two into my career. Racked with student debt, adult bills and my substantial interest in 'nightlife' - my budget was NOT liberal. I decided to look for a studio in the Stevens Square area. Slightly ghetto but affordable and close to downtown MPLS. I thought GREAT - I can walk to work, burn some calories, live by my best friends and not break the bank all while being slightly trendy.

Thus began my search for reasonable apartments that we not about to condemned. With my best friend and her boyfriend letting my crash on their couch, I embarked on a solo journey for 450 square feet to call home. This is the moment I learned a couple very valuable life lessons: living alone is expensive. Second life lesson; having a bigger budget is desirable.

Every place I looked at in my price range was extremely sketchy. I am talking about hallways that were clearly lopsided, very dingy carpeted rooms, outdated appliances and an non negotiable threat of a cockroach problem. My dreams were crushed. Very, very quickly. My daydreams of throwing swanky cocktail parties in my spacious and perfectly decorated apartment were swept out of my mind and replaced with me living in a roach motel with a few uninvited house guests.

I remember my best friend and boyfriend came to look at a place I was going to sign a lease on. Bless their hearts they tried to remain optimistic but it was hard to be calm and supportive and I could tell. They were scared for my safety.

I flaked on signing that lease after reading some less than flattering and comforting reviews on the management company.

I did eventually find a cozy little studio in Stevens Square. While I questioned the legitimacy of the building and how many actual tenants happily lived there, I decided that beggars cannot be choosers and I signed a lease.

Don't get me wrong - I loved that little apartment. I also loved that I could peer out onto Stevens Square Park and watch the questionable residents of the area co-mingle. My favorite memory: a shake down on a homeless lady and her backpack in the park. Let's just say she was NOT innocent. I was riveted and did not leave my window perch for a solid hour. I later told a guy I was dating about that moment and felt slightly judged for being so blatantly creepy.

After a year in my little bachelorette pad I had not only acquired a feline companion [see below] and learned that living alone was not only liberating but bad ass. I had a whole new lease on life - I could do anything! Picture to hang up? No problem. Just heard a noise that sounded like a gunshot? Listen to your iPod and pretend it was fireworks! Never in my life had I been so terrified and exhilarated at the same time -  I was doing it.  I was 24, single & living in the 612.

Meet Binky Bear - my furry daughter.