The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Saturday, St. Patrick’s Day, I went to Rachel Ray’s “Feedback.” It was a free event at SxSW that had shows from 10:30 – 4:15. Every band we saw (but one, more on that later) was great. What’s more: free food, and free booze.

This should either delight or concern you. In hindsight, for me, it does both.

I went with Rainbow Speak, Airplanes, E$ and a desire to drink. Airplanes and E$ decided not to drink that day, so Rainbow Speak and I drank for four.

We got there at 1030 or so and started drinking pretty early. Maybe around 11. When we went up to get our drinks we realized we could each take two cups. This was delightful news. Later, when I went up for more rounds and I realized they would not be cutting me off, this was scary news. I counted on the venue to be cheapskates and say “sorry dude, no more” but instead the opposite happened. At one point Rainbow Speak and I went up and the bartender thought RS had said “water.” She responded, pretty disgruntled, “WATER!??”

There was a lot to see and do that day, so I sobered up through the course of the day. Around 8 pm that night, at Frank (where we saw Fallulah and Charlene Soraia), I heard some stories about myself.

I was pretty surprised by what I didn’t remember.

This guy (seen here with anonymous tall girl) was apparently having himself a ball.

Story 1

I got a text from my mom. She asked how we were doing. I took a picture of the other three and began texting her back. Ruh roh. “Oh God, I’m already drunk.” Bad news. It was 12:25 pm.

Story 2  (as told by Airplanes to me)

At some point, while walking through the crowd, I got in to the habit of tapping random people on their far shoulder. I know I loved doing this in fourth grade … and apparently I still love it.

Story 3

Last time I got posters (as I talked about here). At some point E$ suggested we go look at their posters to get a picture to see who all was playing. They are big posters.

Instead I ripped two off the wall. Realizing I took two, I handed one to E$. Then I ran away.

When I got up to Airplanes she asked where E$ was, I happily stated I’d ditched her. When E$ found her way back to us she informed us that a number of people made her stand and hold the poster out so they could take a picture of all the artists. Sucker.

Story 4

Like I said before, all the bands but one were good.

The one bad one was Rachel Ray’s husband’s band (sorry, Rach). It makes sense. He wanted to play music, she’s famous so she made it happen.

Apparently, this upset me? I don’t know. After their set ended I yelled out, “RACHEL RAY YOU’RE AN ASS HOLE!” I giggled a little after this, then realized that what I had done was wrong, and looked down.

Strangers around us stared at me some. Probably jealous at the amount of confidence I had in my opinion.

What was funnier about this was how funny E$ found this. Occasionally, through the rest of the day, she’d laugh and quote me.

Story 5

In the Johnny on the Spots there was a lot of graffiti. One of the bits of graffiti said something along the lines of,

“(So and so), the lead singer of Keane, has such a small d**k that he could f**k a cheerio”

I must have found this funny, because I came back and told everyone. I had even come up with a clever hand motion involving my pointer finger, and two other fingers forming an o.

My phrase of the day, which may have started around then, was, “Because I’m a GENTLEMAN!” I also liked to say, “A gentleman to the last!”

And now a picture of the two stages we saw awesome music on all afternoon.

DumbFunnery @ SxSW 2012!

Yes, I went with a blog title third-person style subject for this post. Why? Because here are a few quick stories that involve me looking/acting/feeling dumb at this year’s (very fun) SxSW.

Fallulah

Oh, Fallulah. Here’s a song of hers.

I am a big fan of this song. It’s a lot of fun.

I saw her with my sister and Airplanes on Saturday night at Frank. She was (I’m going to use this word a lot) fun. Very high energy, happy, and just plain good. E$, Airplanes and I went upstairs to eat some food and Fallulah came on. I ran downstairs to take a few pictures and, whoops, fell in love. Ohhh she is pretty. And so much what? Fun.

After her show I used my sister’s phone(and therefore her twitter account) to write out a tweet.

“Hey Fallulah! Awesome show! Are you going to come out to take pictures? And marry my little brother?”

E$ pointed out that this made me sound crazy. FINE! I could’ve said lots of things. Frank sells hot dogs. I ate one and it was tasty. I wondered if maybe Fallulah would respond to this:

“Hey Fallulah! Great show! Want a hot dog and a green card? My little brother’s single.”

I didn’t send any of these … but eventually she came out! Whoo! We grabbed a picture but I had forgotten to turn on the flash. Our wedding photo, RUINED! Full of all the engineering charm I could muster, I leaned in close and said, “you guys were … good!” Really brain?, really? That’s honestly all I could think to say. Oof.

Nevertheless, check her out!

Dig Those Pants

This guy. Those pants. This guy with those pants. I wanted a picture of me casually by him. This is how that turned out.

He clearly noticed what I was up to. He turned and said, cool as can be, “if you want a picture with me we can do that.” I was ashamed at my lack of being able to be sneaky/lack of just going up and asking. Nevertheless, the picture happened. WHAT A STUD.

Rubblebucket

After their awesome show … a picture with the lead singer. I asked if we could do two. “One regular, and one where we’re all dinosaurs?” She said, “Of course!” Then she dinosaur’d like a champ.

(Oh and notice that Juicebox and I have hipster’d our jeans. This trend was led by Juicebox.

Well, led by the hipsters. But then by Juicebox.)

Attn: Ellen (3/21/12)

Front


Back (apologies for my handwriting!)

The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

I recently realized some disappointing news. I can never be a real artist (you have to say that word with ennui).

Why can’t I be an artist?

I smile too much.

But – good news! – I can fake the funk. All I have to do is suck on sour candies at artsy affairs. Good news – disdainful, pained expression in the bag. Bad news – I’ll probably say “blech” from the candy at an inopportune moment.

Sincerely,
DumbFunnery.com

 

Why am I sending these postcards?