Weekend (Part 2)

Saturday night I had a date with Skyhawk, after which we planned to go to a club in Deep Ellum to flaunt our passion in Monk’s face while he remained trapped behind a drumset for an hour or so.

Er, I mean, Skyhawk and I met for dinner on Saturday* and then headed to a Latin club in Deep Ellum to watch Monk play a gig with his new band, Asacamola. Okay, that’s not really the name of the band, but I couldn’t hear a damn word anyone said into the microphone –which makes it very difficult to translate from Spanish to English in your head, by the way- and after a while I just started making up things I thought the lead singer should say. The first band was decent, mostly due to their Shakira-esque singer (vocally, not, um, appearance-ly or dancing-ly, to my dismay) and between songs she’d shout something garbled and Spanish into the microphone. “Muchisimas gracias a ...” In my head she was saying “This totally rocks and I am an awesome singer but you’re right, you’re right, I should probably lay off the hair-tossing and weird body-spasming just a little bit because boy is that not working for me, and I’m sorry.”

Monk’s band was also decent, although the lead singer ("Gracias y..." = "Have you noticed how I jump up and down in a threatening yet smurf-like manner?") had this baggy jeans/man jewelry/thugitude thing going for him, and it kinda made me want to poke him in the eye. And then he started “singing” and it kinda made me want to put some duct tape over his mouth. But Monk rocked the drums as usual (I mean ROCKED. You have no idea how much of a badass drummer my husband is, and that is a damn shame), which always makes me feel proud and amazed and happy and a little funny in my naughty place, so overall it was a good time.

Oh hey! You know what’s awkward? When your spouse’s bandmates all get together and are speaking in Spanish and apparently there’s a photo op thing to do, so they have everyone sit on or around a couch, grab a Playboy magazine (yes, the club had Playboys laying around the lofted seating area. Because sometimes, when you are waiting to hear some music or possibly there’s a lull in the conversation, it’s a good time to thumb through a gently-used adult magazine) open it up, and LOOK AT IT while the gaggle of girlfriends take a few pictures. Perhaps this photo will be the one that makes the album cover. So Monk is attempting a bold “sure I’m looking at dirty pictures with a bunch of other men but I’m also kind of bored” pose for the camera, while his wife watches from 3 feet away. Judging from the crumpled look of embarrassment on his face, and the This-Is-What-I-Look-Like-When-I’m-Being-A-Good-Sport expression on mine, it was clear that we had finally (finally! Because we were wondering when it would happen!) reached the Absolute Apex of Awkwardness in that moment- a goal we never knew we’d been striving for but the sense of accomplishment remains the same. (TO THE BAND: Gracias, hombres. Perhaps next time we can blow the lid off this awkward mutha by ordering him up a lap dance. I will bring the dollar bills.)

I also did stuff on Friday and Sunday that included even more booze, staying up too late, class stuff, massage stuff, and consuming twice my monthly quota of sodium and (probably) msg, but this post has gone on long enough, and you didn't really ask about my weekend in the first place.

*to which I was late. LATE, people, laaaaaaate. And all because half the highway was shut down for construction and I had to get off of it and find my way into North Dallas and I called Skyhawk and he was all “that’s cool, no problem, I’m a laidback dude and I’ve changed our reservation time” but then later informed me that if we HAD been out on a date? I would have lost serious points for being FORTY MINUTES tardy. And then I think I lost more points for being (my usual) obnoxious (self) during dinner, but I think we’re both trying to move on, so I won't get into the details.

2 comment:

Anonymous skyhawk said...

Alas, what can I say? Had we been on an actual date, demerits would have been issued. I have very high standards, as you have seen throughout the time you've known me.

Don't worry -- I'm laughing my own ass off at that one.

Spot-on commentary on the gig, from the subpar lead singers, to the readily-available porn. Agree completely with the Shakira reference (you sound like a fan... and not necessarily of her music? That's hot.)

Oh, and what IS the name of Monk's band, anyway???

5:41 PM  
Blogger Lisa said...

Oh that story about the pose is too funny. Yeah, awkward.

By the description of the lead singer, I'm kinda wishing you would have poked him in the eye. heehee

1:41 PM  

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