crazy magnet

Jenni, Matt, and I did our Fat Tuesday celebratin’ at Dixie’s on Grand last night, like I mentioned earlier. It was the only place that was celebrating Fat Tuesday and Jack Brass Band happened to be playing at the same time. A total win-win situation.

The band had finished its third set, and we were kinda waiting around for Mike (my former co-worker and part of the JBB) to come over so we could buy him a drink. Matt excused himself to go outside and smoke; Jenni had to go to the bathroom. She was willing to wait until Matt returned, but no – I insisted that she go, because it’s Grand Avenue in St. Paul. I can totally handle this shit.

Two minutes after Jenni leaves for the bathroom, I hear someone say "May I join you?" and I’m all "Hey, girl, hey" and then I look up. Man. I totally should have looked up before letting this lady join us. She sits down before I can say, "JUST KIDDING." and no sooner does she take her glasses off, does she start going off on some rampage about the caucuses.

She had apparently missed her caucus time and couldn’t vote, but was very adamant about telling me Obama had won in this particular area of St. Paul we were in. Matt came in from his smoke break, and she didn’t even acknowledge his return. Instead, she kept rambling about how younger men are making the wrong political decisions. LADY. MATT IS A YOUNG MAN. SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Once Jenni finally returned from emptying her bladder, this lady took it upon herself to make some formal introductions. Her name was Laurel. And then off she went about the 1980 elections when she was in California, just moving back to Minnesota, and she was unsure about her decision to vote for Reagan and who the hell else knows what she was saying. I tried to interrupt her by telling her I was only two then, and had no idea what she was talking about, but it didn’t work. I was too busy trying not to laugh every time I looked at Jenni and trying to contain my laughter by drinking water out of an empty cup. Laurel didn’t seem to mind, because she thought she was "at an after party for the Democratic Caucus". Really? Are there after parties for that shit?

I don’t remember much else of the conversation. That can be attributed to either the three Hurricanes I had or the fact that this lady was creepy as hell. We figured out our tab, to which Laurel was extremely amused. "You guys grew up with calculators, right?" she asked. Right, lady. Calculators. We had those fancy things. But now we do this crazy thing called MATH IN YOUR HEAD. It’s quite unbelievable really. She assured me that she could help us figure out the tab, because she was sober. Except she was acting stone cold drunk!

And then we ran. My Converse-wearing feet hadn’t moved that fast since doing the Soulja Boy at Pi Saturday night.

This is right here? Exactly why I don’t hang out in St. Paul.