This week has left me far too tired to attempt to put into detail all the stuff that went down in Vegas. Needless to say, I didn't lose any money, but I didn't really win any. I survived on 8 hours of sleep for 3 days, and somehow made it into work early on Monday. How's that for a Wonder Woman??

In other news, my new alter-identity!:

Zach: rastas are so overdone tho...look at the majority of laura's friends! (bad dum dum, chis)
i'm thinking more soul diva. the dreads are good, but you need to go a darker shade, like chocolate brown. grow the dreads and then pile them on your head jauntily.

then do the whole faking your death and moving to the UK under the new moniker of frosheeka.

frosheeka [lastname] will be number 1 in ultra cool. we're talking runway model baby! she'll be used by a yet undiscovered designer who, coupled with her beauty, will rocket to stardom. but frosheeka won't just be a pretty face! she's verrry tech savvy and in a changing world begins to build a technology consulting agency which specializes in the undeveloped markets of far eastern europe and central asia. never to be one to forsake her past, tho, frosheeka will always be down with a hot plate of soul food coupled with a fresh loaf of challah.

devlyn! i smell teevee series!

Alisha: cause she ain't no challah back girrrl

Devlyn: that sounds hott, baby. Frosheeka is here to stay! Now, if only my hair would grow fasterly. How about Frosheeka's husband? A white conservative guy who's kind of preppy and an odd duck in his own right.

Zach: yeah, and frosheeka is forevah trying to explain to him about things that are hip and cool and he is forever saying things in the year 2006 like "have you heard of these franz ferdinand guys?" (queue audience laughter). and then frosheeka would get herself worked up in a tizzy explaing that they have been around for a few years and then she would say she's gotta go meet her peeps "out" at the hippest club in town. where she would work it, girl.

...

maybe frosheeka could be a private investigator or something, what with all her geeking skillz. supermodel by day, PI by night kind of thing.
frosheeka GO, GO frosheeka, GO GO Frosheeka.

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I'm just finishing packing. I didn't want to mention this before, but I leave for Las Vegas tomorrow morning, where I will spend 40 80-degree hours melting away in honor of my grandmother's 75th birthday. All the aunts and uncles are going to be there, with me as the lone grandchild. This is a surprise bday party, and while my grandmother doesn't even own a computer, I have been too paranoid to mention this publically online until now. She doesn't even know she's taking a plane anywhere (she lives in Michigan, remember?). So, I'll come back with photos and drunken stories, I'm sure. See you on Sunday!

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A list of the thoughts and scenes that entered my head while attempting to fall asleep last night:

• What kind of cake to make for my mom's birthday: angelfood cake with lemon glazing, chocolate fudge cake, box-made kind with the different colored dots inside, or lemon-raspberry whitecake? But the most important question of all: on which cake would sugared flowers look best?
  
• I should really go to a cake-decorating class. I should learn how to make frosting roses.
  
• Maybe I should give up on the current design I have in my head for the redesign of the blog. Maybe I'll just go around town and take some photos with Ben's camera and pick the best from those. Maybe I should be expanding my design and going with something new and different, yet totally functional.
  
• I have chicken in the freezer. But the cake will be dairy. I can make lasagna for the dinner. With a caesar salad. And some lovely rolls. That sounds good. Should I purchase flowers for the table?
  
• Remember that time I kept a notebook by the bed for such times as these? And it was supposed to help me get empty my brain, opening up the soft spongy interior for unwakefulness? Yeah, that so didn't work.
  
• But if mom's birthday is the day before I'm hosting bookclub, do I really want to have to do all those dishes? Do you think I could get away with serving her on paper plates? Would she notice the difference?
  
• I am so paranoid about bedbugs now. Thanks, Dateline.
  

A word about insomnia:
I have been experiencing some form of insomnia since I was a wee lass attempting to fall asleep on the top-bunk of my wee little bed. I don't really have the same kind of insomnia that most people have; once I've fallen asleep, I'm asleep for good. It just takes me an average of 40 minutes to actually get to the sleeping stage. Last night, however, made the average jump at least a couple of minutes when I lay on my bed for a good 2 hours before falling asleep. 2 hours. It's not like I couldn't find a good position to fit into - I'm relatively easy-to-please when it comes to sleeping positions. My brain just wouldn't slow down.

Eventually, I had Ben bring me a glass of water so I could take some Excedrin PM. These usually help me fall asleep while on planes and the like, but they didn't help at all last night. I did experience the lightheaded stage I normally have to achieve before sleeping, but I just enjoyed that stage for at least another 30 minutes before falling asleep. When that stage has finally conquored my brain, I think about laying on a white wrought-iron bed while floating through space. True story. I don't know from where that image came, but it's been with me since I was about 6. The image calms me and usually lures me right into dreaming.

Maybe I should see a doctor about this.

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There is a certain segment of the population to whom the subtleties of irony may be lost. For the record, there is a difference between irony and sarcasm. There is a difference between irony and humor. But mostly, there is a difference between irony and suck.

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When we left the last story, Laura and I were walking along Skidmore, back towards the hotel on Interstate. Both Laura and I were rather... tipsy... off our 4 beers apiece, and we hadn't eaten any proper food since, technically, the day before, since it was now well past midnight. Remembering the words of the cute young Indian girl that checked us into our hotel room, there were supposedly some restaurants near the upcoming intersection. We passed one, then two restaurants that were long since closed, and, dejected, turned south on Interstate to sluff towards bed. Then, low and behold, there came a flash of lights, neon, and a sign that said "food"! The Alibi came into view, and as the sign lit our tired faces, the words on the door lit our hearts.

We walked into a jungle-themed karaoke bar. I flung myself into a booth after taking a quick headturn in an effort to spot some kind of food. Laura went to the bar to get a drink as I looked at the bar menu. At the top, in tiny letters were the words "Bar Menu served until 7pm". SEVEN PEE-EMM??? I was ready to just give up and go to the hotel, but Laura joined me at the booth, her hands empty, and bouncing with excitement.

"There's a lady over there who's giving away free cigarettes!"

I ordered a midori sour (lots of sugar + cherry = dinner, right?) and Laura got herself a beer. Suddenly, 3 guys walk in - all kind of looking half-frat/half-punk-wannabe. As I was rolling my eyes, I caught sight of one guy's face. "Omigawd," I whispered to Laura, "there's the dude who was in the airplane line!" Laura, confused, "Eh? Airplane line?" "Yeah, in Boise. Don't you remember? He had his iPod in one ear and was all "g" with the cellphone in the other ear. We were making fun of him." The 3 guys, who were all very visibly drunk, caught sight of the free-cigarette girl, who had made her way to our table. We took the survey, which was for out-of-staters only, and one guy noticed that our IDs were from Idaho.

"Hey!" he said, “We’re from Idaho, too!"
I looked warily at Laura. "Really? From Boise?"
"Yeah!" sayeth guy #1
"Well, from Mountain Home, actually." guy #2 interjected.
Ah, Mountain Home. At least now we could tell where their special style came from. They decided to sit down with us. Guy #3 comes back from the bar and slips in next to Laura and starts going off about lesbians and how he hates them. Laura asks if he has heard about the recent legislation that made even more illegal for 2 people of the same sex to get married. He responds in the affirmative. "And it's good!" he spits,"F'n lesbians. I hate them all."

This is the part in which Laura becomes a lesbian:
"But I'm a lesbian. Do you hate me?" says the newly lesbianized Laura.

The guy #3 was stunned silent for a second and subsequently went into a tirade I promptly ignored. I instead focused my attention to getting rid of the guy that was trying to get me to come with him back to their hotel room. I kept attempting to catch Laura's eye and give her the "hello, let's get the heck out of here" stare, but she wouldn't budge. She was on a roll, and no matter how many times I kicked her, she would pay no attention to me.

The Mountain Hominids #1 and #2 finally left to sing some karaoke, and I started gathering my things. The guy #3 to whom Laura was speaking was now a semi-blubbering mess, blathering about how all his girlfriends "were treated like queens! But they were horrible" to him... I wrote a couple of sentences on a piece of paper, handed it to him, Laura stuffed it into his pocket, and we were off.

The time was 2.00am. We got back to the hotel in just a minute, as it was literally kitty-corner to the Alibi. I, the paranoid one, stared out the window for a while at the front door of the Alibi, afraid that somehow the guys had seen where we ended up (and if the car in the parking lot was theirs, I was afraid they would actually try to drive somewhere). After 10 minutes or so, I tired of my perch and joined Laura on her bed, internetted for a while, while exclaiming the strangeness of the night, and finally got to sleep (in my own bed, thankyouverymuch) around 3.30am. There was so much ahead of us, and we had only been in Portland for 8 hours.

The rest of the trip was generic - shopping, meeting up with friends, having a good time. All in all, it was a lovely mini-break, and that Thursday night trumped all the rest with regards to obscurity and obscenity (not to mention the awesomenessestness). Be watchful of that Alibi on Interstate. That is, unless you want to listen to the worst. karaoke. ever.

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The show Laura and I attended in Portland was amazing. It took place at the cozy Mississippi Studios (on Mississippi, a block up from the famous Mississippi pizza), which charmed us with its atmosphere and friendly employ. Laura and I arrived late (due to plane issues, etc.) - 15 minutes after the show was to start, but people were still milling about, chatting softly, grabbing beers, and getting in the mood. Mississippi Studios seats maybe 70 people in stadium-like seating: in rows are chairs, mid-stools, and high-stools on two floor levels - there were a few folks sitting already, but groups of people were loosely placed, enjoying dappled quiet conversations.

Ten minutes after sitting down, wriggling from nerves and excitement, enjoying exclamations of the perfect timing and awesome venue, sipping our beers, and swinging our legs like schoolkids, Jim Infantino took the stage as the opener. Jim is incredibly charasmatic, quick-witted, clever, cute, and funny as hell - he has the energy of a 5 year-old punk rocker, but none of the attitude. He quickly made friends with the crowd via his music and banter, and cracked us up at every available opportunity. After 6 songs, he left the stage, only to be replaced by the original opening act, who had had some car issues driving down from Olympia, Washington.

Paul Plagens? Kind of sucked. Okay, he really sucked. Where Jim brought the audience up to a roar of enthusiasm for the headliner, Paul took us down to a yawning depression. He opened with a song that started with, "You'll be so sorry when you open the door to see me hung from the rafters, you bitch," (not completely literal, but damned close). The rest of the songs were similar, mixed only with harmonica and his falsetto-ish voice layered over the guitar. We slumped in our seats, suddenly feeling hungry and tired despite what we hoped the beer was doing for us. Thankfully, he left after 5 songs, never to return.

Jim's Big Ego took the stage and immediately woke everyone up. They played some of my favorite songs during the first set, including "Boston Band", "Los Angeles", and "Prince Charming", rocking the crowd, and making us all chair-dance. During the break, I waited in line nervously to see if the band would be sticking around after the show. Finally, when I was able to talk with Jim, I felt sick with nerves, and could barely swallow the saliva that had grown thick in my mouth, but I somehow finally stuttered a question: "Hey, uhm... will you guys be hanging out after the show? I'd love to talk with you, but don't want to take up your break..." Jim smiled and asked me what I would like to talk about. "Oh, er... I don't know... your music, your website... stuff like that." Suddenly Laura appeared at my left side and, bouncing, asked if she could request a couple of songs. "...'Miss Communication' and 'Stress'. I was in my office in Boise playing them all day today." Jim did a double-take, "You guys came here from Boise? Isn't that, like, far away?" "It's only an hour by plane," said I, "about 6 hours to drive. We literally just flew in to see your show, then we're going to spend some time with some friends that live here." "Wow, you guys flew in from Boise to see us??" "Yeah." "Holy crap. I don't think anyone's ever done that for us before! Sure, we'll stick around after the show. I mean, you came all this way to see us? I'd love to talk to you!" "Awesome." I said,"Well then... we'll see you in a bit."

Laura and I skipped our way out to the back porch where we hopped about like little bunnies and smoked a cigarette, exclaiming, "We just totally talked to Jim and he's all thinking we're kickass because we flew in from Boise and he totally likes us and he's sticking around after the show to hang out with us omg omg omg omg omg omg..."

I am such a fangirl.

During the break, the place had filled almost to capacity, and it was hard to get back to our seats, wedged against the far wall. When the band took the stage again, they immediately played the requested songs, played some more favorites, and did some kickass napkin poetry. They finished the set, and were cheered onto the stage again for a 2-song encore, consisting of "WTF?" and "Feelin' Groovy". The show was over, and chairs were emptying. People walked by Jim, thanked him, and went home to bed, where they surely dreamt of the awesomeness that is JBE. Laura and I went back outside after the show to calm down before talking to the band, and to let them get through all of the folks lined up by the door to get out.

After about 15 minutes, freshly purchased CDs in hand, we went back in to find the place nearly deserted. A woman had followed us in from the deck, with t-shirts she purchased, and repeatedly exclaimed how she was going to sell the signed shirts on eBay when the band got "famous", the profits of which she would use to purchase for herself a new car. From this sentence, you might get the impression that this lady was a bit annoying. She was. And she was there the entire time we were talking to Jim, Jesse, and Dan about politics (Laura & I), the press (Laura), how we found out about JBE (Laura -> Zach -> Me -> LeeAnn -> NPR), Boise (both of us), Idaho in general (us and annoying lady (who happened to be originally from Twin Falls)), g33k1ng (me, me, me!!!) and AJAX (moi again). At the mention of AJAX, Jim almost spit out his beer and ran upstairs to the green room to get the book he had just purchased on the subject. We g33ked animately about this, with Laura rolling her eyes in the background, while trying to make annoying woman leave. Jim finally said, "Well, you should give me your contact info. When we switch everything over, we'll need some developers to work on it, and you don't have to live in Boston to do that." I almost pooped myself. Scrawled on a napkin, Hi Jim! email devlyn (at) gmail (dot) com. AJAX!, which he put in his jacket pocket. By this time, the Mississippi Studios people were totally ready to close up shop (giving us the eye), and we had gotten rid of annoying woman, so we helped the band carry out equipment, hugged them all, and skipped up Mississippi towards Skidmore, clutching our signed CDs and bursting with energy. It was about 12.45am.

When we had gotten about a block down Skidmore, walking west towards the freeway overpass, we heard honking behind us. The guys were in their little white van-jeep at the stoplight on Skidmore and Mississippi. And all of them were waving at us, smiling. That, dear friends, was the best moment of the night. We beamed and waved back, our hands slicing through the harsh wind. And then they were gone.

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