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Ok, I'm awake now and I've loaded the picture. Ev always turns out so much darker scanned than irl... weird.
The concert was even better tonight than last night... or last night than the night before, whatever it was. And as I walked in, I was surprised to hear shrieks and exclamations from the hen-like altos in the third row who know me, but I didn't think it had anything to do with me. The people sitting next to me and a couple old guys from the row behind me complimented me on my hair and my courage in making such a huge decision (?), and I replied that this happened every two years or so. Once warm-ups were over, and everybody was disarranged backstage, I learned from my friendly altos that their exclamations had indeed been about my hair. They liked it. Bill did a pretty funny double-take standing next to me in line to go onstage. Chris didn't get it at first; he thought I had a ponytail or something, but once he understood he liked it and talked a bit, before going to his line. A couple of the sorpanos behind me as we filed onstage up the risers were envious of how fast my hair grows.
We stayed out till about 3:40, first at Cabo, where I had a really good chicken fajita salad, and a cockroach ran across the table and Angela (she's Fiona's friend, not in the choir) freaked and jumped up and knocked my water over before Bill killed it. Some people are strange. I was frustrated by the fact that Chris didn't eat and therefore went to Warren's (down the street) with the other non-eaters about an hour before everyone who did eat, and so I was stuck next to the annoying guy (whose name is Andrew) until I moved, ostensibly to go where I could hear the conversation Bill was moderating. We did eventually go to Warren's, and the jukebox was good. It has become an in-joke now, whenever we hear Margaritaville (good song), whenever the chorus comes around, which goes:
Wastin' away again, in Margaritaville
searchin' for my lost shaker of salt
some people say that there's a woman to blame
but I know it's nobody's (or my own damn) fault
We all sang the song, and apparently now it's "all Shtobie's fault". Heh. He was quite affable about it. He had to leave around 12:30, though, to get up early for work (on a Sunday, geez!). I was very put out. But still, a couple of interesting things happened. I got very smoked out, and took my candle into the entry to escape the fumes for awhile. A weird guy came in and looked at me funny, and asked why I had a candle. I told him I liked fire, and the reason I was out here instead of in there was that I didn't like the smoke which went with certain kinds. He replied that it wasn't that bad, he'd seen it worse, and I said I'd just gotten back from Mexico City where it was much worse. He took that as a reflection on their pollution, which is indeed bad, but that wasn't what bothered me, and I said so. The smoking of cigars and their ilk was my problem, but he went off on this explanation of how the mountains keep the pollution all in, and said that was why Mexico City was so F-ed up. I was a little disgusted by this unnecessary obscenity, and the irrelevance of it, and said "So?" He was taken aback, and I asked pointedly if he was going to go in. He did.
After a while I got enough lung back to return to the table, and sang along with everybody in harmony... indeed, drunken singing can be pretty cool if they're all really good. We picked a person to sing to (it's a tradition; we have to sing Happy Birthday to someone who's birthday it's not) and got a standing ovation from the bar for our very classical, ornamented, high-Cs version of it.
The other tables were impressed and started mingling, and Lisa (who is the classically trained Karaoke State Champion of Iowa, attested to by her performance in 804) challenged a lawyer to sing. He said he was a baritone, but sang an Ave Maria about three octaves higher than it ought to be, and had a very nice tenor range, though obviously he cracked wildly (very drunk). Lisa responded with Dove sei, which is supposed to go to a C, but she had it a fifth high and laughed at herself when she couldn't reach it. I was not so absorbed in the festivities that I didn't notice the weird guy (from the entry, not Andrew) staring at me from the bar, and once I caught his eye and raised a sardonic eyebrow. Eventually, I thought he had gone away, but I felt a tap on my shoulder and lo and behold, he'd snuck up behind me. I gave him an annoyed "What?", and said "Let's talk about your fire." I was pretty disgusted with him, and besides, what kind of weirdo follows a 15-year-old around? I said "No.", very decisively, and he was a little surprised. Eventually a group came and wanted to sit at the table behind me where he'd sat down, and he had to leave or be disagreeable and not give it up. He left. I was relieved.
I got smoked out a couple more times and intermittently went to the entry, until I got sleepy enough to get the the keys from Bill (we came in his car) and go to the car. On the way, a couple of guys were marginally in my way, and as I slid by them, one poked his friend to turn around, and pointed at me. It was kind of strange. I got in the car, and had lain down only a few minutes before Bill and Mama came and got in the car. Apparently, we had to go to Ihop. As we passed a street my mom thought we should have turned on, Bill was insistent that there was no left turn there, and Mama had thought she saw a sign with arrows to the left. Bill bet Mama a pancake that there was no left turn, and went around the block again to see. The signs were far ahead of the street and for the next one, so Mama owes Bill a pancake. He took us to our car and decided he had to get some cash and go home to switch from his SUV to his moped, and we followed him to his house. He bade us meet him at Ihop, and so we went.
Once we got to Ihop, around 2:30, Fiona was already there waiting for her friend Angela who is scared of roaches. We waited about 15 minutes for Bill (he's the most relaxed about time I've ever met, and it never hurts him; he was 30 minutes late for the call to concert and nobody noticed, he's always very late for rehearsals), and decided to order. He got there before the food came. We had silly conversations, and good Ihop. I like cheese blintzes. I ate Bill's mushrooms, too. Bill crashed almost in his food, and decided it was time to go home around 3:30. He'd had coffee, so he didn't crash on the way home, but it was time. It was a fun night. I doubt it'll be so late tonight, because tomorrow is Monday. Agh. And Salad is leaving for Europe (he'll be in Germany for Oktoberfest; I hope he doesn't kill himslef with alcohol poisoning before he gets back. Well, not just before he gets back, ever) for months, next Friday, and this is the last concert. Augh. I hope I get to talk to him a bunch and don't have to sit next to Andrew.
Well, I guess I'd better read the nine chapters of Economics that I have to catch up on. And my History questions. Go see the picture.
The concert was even better tonight than last night... or last night than the night before, whatever it was. And as I walked in, I was surprised to hear shrieks and exclamations from the hen-like altos in the third row who know me, but I didn't think it had anything to do with me. The people sitting next to me and a couple old guys from the row behind me complimented me on my hair and my courage in making such a huge decision (?), and I replied that this happened every two years or so. Once warm-ups were over, and everybody was disarranged backstage, I learned from my friendly altos that their exclamations had indeed been about my hair. They liked it. Bill did a pretty funny double-take standing next to me in line to go onstage. Chris didn't get it at first; he thought I had a ponytail or something, but once he understood he liked it and talked a bit, before going to his line. A couple of the sorpanos behind me as we filed onstage up the risers were envious of how fast my hair grows.
We stayed out till about 3:40, first at Cabo, where I had a really good chicken fajita salad, and a cockroach ran across the table and Angela (she's Fiona's friend, not in the choir) freaked and jumped up and knocked my water over before Bill killed it. Some people are strange. I was frustrated by the fact that Chris didn't eat and therefore went to Warren's (down the street) with the other non-eaters about an hour before everyone who did eat, and so I was stuck next to the annoying guy (whose name is Andrew) until I moved, ostensibly to go where I could hear the conversation Bill was moderating. We did eventually go to Warren's, and the jukebox was good. It has become an in-joke now, whenever we hear Margaritaville (good song), whenever the chorus comes around, which goes:
Wastin' away again, in Margaritaville
searchin' for my lost shaker of salt
some people say that there's a woman to blame
but I know it's nobody's (or my own damn) fault
We all sang the song, and apparently now it's "all Shtobie's fault". Heh. He was quite affable about it. He had to leave around 12:30, though, to get up early for work (on a Sunday, geez!). I was very put out. But still, a couple of interesting things happened. I got very smoked out, and took my candle into the entry to escape the fumes for awhile. A weird guy came in and looked at me funny, and asked why I had a candle. I told him I liked fire, and the reason I was out here instead of in there was that I didn't like the smoke which went with certain kinds. He replied that it wasn't that bad, he'd seen it worse, and I said I'd just gotten back from Mexico City where it was much worse. He took that as a reflection on their pollution, which is indeed bad, but that wasn't what bothered me, and I said so. The smoking of cigars and their ilk was my problem, but he went off on this explanation of how the mountains keep the pollution all in, and said that was why Mexico City was so F-ed up. I was a little disgusted by this unnecessary obscenity, and the irrelevance of it, and said "So?" He was taken aback, and I asked pointedly if he was going to go in. He did.
After a while I got enough lung back to return to the table, and sang along with everybody in harmony... indeed, drunken singing can be pretty cool if they're all really good. We picked a person to sing to (it's a tradition; we have to sing Happy Birthday to someone who's birthday it's not) and got a standing ovation from the bar for our very classical, ornamented, high-Cs version of it.
The other tables were impressed and started mingling, and Lisa (who is the classically trained Karaoke State Champion of Iowa, attested to by her performance in 804) challenged a lawyer to sing. He said he was a baritone, but sang an Ave Maria about three octaves higher than it ought to be, and had a very nice tenor range, though obviously he cracked wildly (very drunk). Lisa responded with Dove sei, which is supposed to go to a C, but she had it a fifth high and laughed at herself when she couldn't reach it. I was not so absorbed in the festivities that I didn't notice the weird guy (from the entry, not Andrew) staring at me from the bar, and once I caught his eye and raised a sardonic eyebrow. Eventually, I thought he had gone away, but I felt a tap on my shoulder and lo and behold, he'd snuck up behind me. I gave him an annoyed "What?", and said "Let's talk about your fire." I was pretty disgusted with him, and besides, what kind of weirdo follows a 15-year-old around? I said "No.", very decisively, and he was a little surprised. Eventually a group came and wanted to sit at the table behind me where he'd sat down, and he had to leave or be disagreeable and not give it up. He left. I was relieved.
I got smoked out a couple more times and intermittently went to the entry, until I got sleepy enough to get the the keys from Bill (we came in his car) and go to the car. On the way, a couple of guys were marginally in my way, and as I slid by them, one poked his friend to turn around, and pointed at me. It was kind of strange. I got in the car, and had lain down only a few minutes before Bill and Mama came and got in the car. Apparently, we had to go to Ihop. As we passed a street my mom thought we should have turned on, Bill was insistent that there was no left turn there, and Mama had thought she saw a sign with arrows to the left. Bill bet Mama a pancake that there was no left turn, and went around the block again to see. The signs were far ahead of the street and for the next one, so Mama owes Bill a pancake. He took us to our car and decided he had to get some cash and go home to switch from his SUV to his moped, and we followed him to his house. He bade us meet him at Ihop, and so we went.
Once we got to Ihop, around 2:30, Fiona was already there waiting for her friend Angela who is scared of roaches. We waited about 15 minutes for Bill (he's the most relaxed about time I've ever met, and it never hurts him; he was 30 minutes late for the call to concert and nobody noticed, he's always very late for rehearsals), and decided to order. He got there before the food came. We had silly conversations, and good Ihop. I like cheese blintzes. I ate Bill's mushrooms, too. Bill crashed almost in his food, and decided it was time to go home around 3:30. He'd had coffee, so he didn't crash on the way home, but it was time. It was a fun night. I doubt it'll be so late tonight, because tomorrow is Monday. Agh. And Salad is leaving for Europe (he'll be in Germany for Oktoberfest; I hope he doesn't kill himslef with alcohol poisoning before he gets back. Well, not just before he gets back, ever) for months, next Friday, and this is the last concert. Augh. I hope I get to talk to him a bunch and don't have to sit next to Andrew.
Well, I guess I'd better read the nine chapters of Economics that I have to catch up on. And my History questions. Go see the picture.
