Birthday weekend

Why settle for only one day- when a whole weekend will suffice?

I was actually born on Father's Day, so feel especially entitled when my birthday falls on FD again- like yesterday. And one of our lovely friends had a baby yesterday- I'm so proud of her! She was 2 weeks early. Perfect entrance, my dear- the first of a long line, I hope! (I was a month early, so know my big moments when I see them).

So there was a microbrew/brewers fest up in Bothell this weekend. It was fun. I have to say that if you ever wind up in Yakima (God forbid), take a moment and go to the Snipe's Mountain brewery. Their beers are very special (not in a tarded way), and something extraordinary. And I'm not saying that cuz I was drunk. I was merely slightly indisposed. There was no headache involved later. At least not one that I noticed.

We also went to my favorite Indian restaurant up in the U district. I have an affinity for the MOST decadent meal on the planet- butter chicken. UMMMM! I dream about the stuff if deprived for too long. Funny- it used to be panang chicken a la Thai that did the trick. Seems like so long ago.

And then last night (after the car accident and the stoopid F1 Indy race) we went to Dave Atell. And yes, I know that there's some irony about me blogging Dave Atell after he made fun of blogging Dave Atell, but I paid for the tickets, and free speech is a good thing.

Dave was funny as hell. I have to say that I can't relate any specifics. And no, I wasn't drunk (unlike plenty who attended). I just have a problem- long standing- that I have never been able to tell or even remember a joke. Never. It sucks. I hear them, laugh, and promptly forget the whole thing. It makes me useless on certain occasions- like blogging Dave Atell. I'll say this much- there are two possibly young (didn't get a good look- hope so or it's even sadder) chippies who need to consider a break in the party action- for the good of their self-esteems. It reminded me of the story our friend told us of the tawdry little things who got into the BAR pits at Montreal by promising to "make it worth your while" to the poor mechanic who didn't know what to do with himself (betcha she helped him figure it all out). I would love to chat with Dave- but in a more meaningful way than "you rock!" "Thanks-er-could you please get out of my way?" "No, really, dude- you rock!"

I guess I'm just not a star fucker. I was thinking about it last night- and chatted over beer and french fries (frites) with Spouse at our neighborhood pub. Back in the 80s, my mother and I were flying back to MT from Puerto Vallarta. We had a layover in LA- and were behind schedule due to inexplicable confusion feuling up the plane (we watched an entirely too confused ground crew trying out the gear for what looked like the first time). We got to the terminal and found Joan Rivers holding court by the entrance to the plane. She was in a full length mink coat, and alone with some guy. All of the people in the area were well aware of her, but playing it pretty cool. Until Star Fuckers 1&2 showed up. They sauntered up to her and introduced themselves and proceeded to make a spectacle of themselves by name-dropping themselves into some kind of B list celebrity frenzy. It was funny as hell. And I was by far too hung-over and sunburned to find much funny. But it also was icky. Oozy kind of icky.

In my mother's hometown (population around 300), they get celeb sightings at the main bar all of the time (certain people have homes/ranches in the area), and it's a point of pride not to bug the celebs when they are in the bar. It's just not done. And I kind of like that. No agenda- just letting these people behave normally.

Anyway- Dave Atell- funny guy, probably interesting to chat with, but not whilst surrounded by hundreds of drunken Seattlites. And seriously, people- suggesting that he go to the fucking Whisky bar? WTF! Do you not realize that the man has an affinity for cheap dives, and probably won't want to discuss the merits of single malt versus double with you? Dumbasses.