I’m not a big fan of westerns. The shoot-em-up roll-em-out machismo that spews out of most westerns make me gag. Yep, I’m gagging on the testosterone-injected dick that you’re thrusting in my face, Mr. Director. Wait, let me pay for this experience too! Even better. Like a male frakin prostitute or something.
Of course, there is one exception. But it’s a damn good one.
Because you see, there is this movie. Technically, I guess, it’s a western. There’s nothing really special about it, except that it has about a bazillion quotable lines of dialogue.
Tombstone, I’m yer huckleberry.
But this blog post is not about Tombstone. Not really. It’s about friendship.
See, there’s an exchange in the movie between Turkey Creek Jack Johnson and Doc Holliday (Oy. The nameage! Turkey Creek Jack Johnson? Really? Did your mother name you that? I think not.) They’re both huddled in with Wyatt Earp, under fire from the Cowboy gang. During a break in the fighting, Jack and Doc have the following conversation:
And that is my point. I don’t have a lot of friends. I require a lot from people for me to apply the moniker “friend” to someone. A friend is someone I know I can rely on. Someone I trust. Someone who I know cares for me, and shows it, much like I try to show my friends I care for them.
Friends offer to stay the night at your house when your cat dies. They help you change a flat tire in the rain and bring you coffee. They invite you to dinner when you drop in unannounced. They’ve talked you off the ledge, and still love you. They back your play no matter what.
So if I call you a friend, it means something. It means a whole heck of a lot of somethings. And I don’t give it out lightly, easily or quickly. It is something that must be earned, because once earned, it means you have access to my (sometimes) endless amounts of patience, understanding and compassion. My friends get my absolute loyalty. These are things I treasure in myself, and must be protected from those who would take advantage of it. I would have it no other way.
Internets, it has been a NIGHT. Let me tell you. I mean…I don’t even know what I mean, that’s what a night it’s been. See, this blog post was originally going to be about those silly shoes I’ve seen cropping up around town, the one with the toes all individually packaged and looking very uncomfortable. I don’t like them. So I was going to tell you about that. BUT INSTEAD, you get this. And it’s much better. Oh so much better.
Tonight I was one of several thousand Portland residents to witness the most amazing, baffling, anticlimactic social media experiment in history. Not to mention an epic #FAIL moment for Mr. Dave Chappelle, comedian, and an opportunity for me to publish porn for the first time. Yes me! I’m beginning my meteoric rise to porn industry domination! Or not.
Let’s take a little journey along this story, shall we?
So I heard rumblings in the Twittersphere of some Dave Chappelle something or other. Seeing as I was DJing tonight, and that it may or may not have been my last time DJing at Tonic, and my pal and DJ teacher @mrballistic was gonna show up, I was a bit preoccupied with other more relevant stuff.
Incidentally, I’m still not exactly sure if I’m DJing again there in two weeks. Either way, there will certainly be more gigs. I’ll keep you posted.
So I did my DJ thing. There was technical difficulties not of my own doing (Helps if you don’t give your speakers to unreliable folk, just sayin’) but the night went off without too much trouble. And now, @mrballistic and his friend @jetstream were talking about heading down to the square for this Dave Chappelle thing.
Huh. Dave Chappelle thing? My set over, I dived into the stweam (twitter stream! ha.) to see what the hubbub was about. Mind you, it’s right around 11:00pm. What’s this? Rumours are abounding that Dave Chappelle is going to do a free show at the Pioneer Courthouse Square tonight? And there’s thousands of people down at the square already?
Well. This bears witnessing, I thought. No really, I really did think that. I thought, and I quote: “Well. This bears witnessing.” I really think like that sometimes. And then sometimes I think “Dude I gotta check that shit out STAT!!!!! ZOMG!!!!!” Ahem. Anyway.
So, impulsive chick that I am, I hop in my car and instead of heading home as I intended, I headed Down Town.
Parked without too much difficulty pretty close to the square. Now normally, around 11pm on a Tuesday, things are pretty quiet in downtown pdx. But tonight, there were cars and people wandering around. Not a lot, but certainly more than normal. That is, until I saw the square.
IT. WAS. PACKED. Literally, thousands of people were there. A madhouse. Throngs of people. Gaggles of people. Groups and gangs and masses of people. All at the square, at 11:30ish, on a freakin TUESDAY. There was a stage in the middle, and people had climbed everthing imaginable to get a good view of that stage. They climbed chairs, walls, onto the starbucks, onto the random sculptures, onto the empty foodcarts, anything that could barely (certainly not safely in some cases) hold the weight of a human had a human on it.
Ok so. Because most of these people didn’t really *know* that this was happening for *sure*, after about 45 minutes of waiting with no sign, people either a. started to leave or b. got cranky. I mean, there was a lot of people all crammed up against the stage, lots of drinking I’m sure, and I seriously got a contact high from one spot I tried to get a good view.
Now, there had been no substantiated evidence that this really WAS going to happen. This huge crowd was the result of rumour, speculation and hearsay, from Facebook, Twitter, Friendfeed, and all the other social networks that are changing the face of our world and our existence these days.
Think about that for a second. Thousands of people, at the square at (now) midnight, all because of rumour on social networks.
A-freakin-mazing. Really. Really!
Well finally, he shows up.
And now for the part when I become a porn director.
If you watched the video up there, you’ll see people started yelling about not being able to hear anything. Pretty much he came out with a mic attached to a tiny little amp, and no one further away that about 20 feet from the stage in the direction the amp was pointing could hear. Not anything. Nothing. So a crowd, waiting for an hour for this guy to show, he shows, and now 95% of the crowd can see him, but can’t hear him.
That’s when the FAIL began.
Fortunately at first, there was a bit of a distraction. And now is where I become a porn director.
Suddenly I notice three people standing on top of the roof of the starbucks. One girl, two guys. And the girl and one of the guys had no shirt on.
And they they started a striptease. All three of them. On top of the Starbucks. In front of thousands.
Uh….huh. I’ll be making the porn beeelions soon, hangin with my porn peeps, doin my porn thang. And with all my new porn connections, maybe then I can publish this little short story I’ve been working on…
Ahem. Right. Back to the thing.
This little distraction couldn’t last with all the Portland Police on the scene. No, our men and women in blue were ON IT.
Except that I saw those same nekkid folks, somewhat nekkid again, down in the fountain pool a few minutes later.
Again with the video:
So now we’re back to a crowd, waiting for an hour for this guy to show, he shows, and while 95% of the crowd can see him, very few can hear him.
Apparently there was some discussion down near the stage that a sound system was being figured out. This figuring lasted about another hour.
So there was a lot of crowdsourcing the running of speaker cords and electrical cords and umbilical cords and all sorts of cords running over and under and around the crowd. And then it was all hooked up, and ready to go and….
Nothing. NOTHING. That’s right. Dave is still using the tiny amp, no one can hear him, and people are starting to drift away slowly.
So after a bit more of this, suddenly we all realize that Dave Has Left The Building. Or the Square, in this case.
I’ll leave the analysis of exactly how, why and when and what types of #FAIL this was to folks in the morning. It’s 4am, and I’m beat.
Thanks Dave. Not sure for what. Something to blog about, I guess? I hear that the people down at the stage thought you were pretty funny.
Yeah, I just coined that phrase. Do you think I could get royalties? Let the millions start rollin’ on in!
I will most likely never ever ever ever ever wear contacts. Fortunately, I have superhuman vision, so that’s not an issue.
(No really. The air force told me so. I mean, everyone else has 20/20, but I’ve got 20/15. That makes me superhuman, right? Right?)
But never being able to use contacts is just the most egregious outcome of my eye shyness. Using eye drops has always been probably one of the most tortuous endeavors I undertake.
Yes. I said tortuous. As in, I never ever want to have to do that ever again. No, I’m not exaggerating! I NEVER exaggerate.
Well ok maybe occasionally.
That one time.
Ok ok, yes I exaggerate. A lot. It’s an art form, really. I mean, why should I deprive the Internets of my masterful use of language to demonstrate truly amazing feats of mental extrapolation?
ANYWAY. Tangent! Back to the eye shyness thing.
So after years and years of wishing I could soothe my tired eyes, slowly burning (if you can name that album WITHOUT WIKIPEDIA’ing IT, you rock my world) with the wonders of modern medicine in the form of Visine, and yet avoiding it until I’m desperate because of how totally awful an experience it is, I have finally hit upon a solution. And I thought, I know lots and lots of poor, eye shy folks out there who wish they could Visine up on those dusty days, those pollen-infested days, those long days of staring at computers. I should share my solution with the WORLD! So my fellow sufferers of eye shyness can finally soothe their poor, tired, red, burning eyes without fear.
Yep. I’m amazing. And generous. And smart.
So here it is. My solution. (can I get a drum roll please? No? Drat.)
Lie down on a comfortable surface.
Wait! Before you lie down, get your eye drops handy, and remove the cap. Set it next to you.
Ok, NOW lie down.
Next to the eye drops.
Because you want to be able to reach it without getting up, right?
Ok. Now, grab the eye drops.
Don’t spill it!
And be careful not to squeeze it, either!
Turn the eye drops bottle so it’s horizontal, like so:
Now, place the bottle so the threaded bit is resting on the bridge of your nose, and the opening is over this part of your eye, where the arrow is pointing:
Take a deep breath! It’ll be ok. Trust me, I would NOT mess around with this subject. Take another deep breath, while I explain a bit.
See, that spot where the arrow is? There’s a bit of a concave area formed by the eye and the nose. Have you ever been crying while lying down, and all your tears kinda pool up in that spot? That’s the effect we’re going for.
Ok. Now, eye drop bottle is in position. Be careful! Still no squeezing on the bottle, or the drops will drop out before we’re ready for them.
Ok. Now, here comes the tricky part. It gets easier with practice, though.
Close your eyes. Take a deep breath.
Take another deep breath.
Gently squeeze the bottle, until a couple drops come out. You may need to adjust your head back a bit to maximize the volume of that concaved area.
You may startle a bit when the first drop hits. Keep your eyes closed, though.
Now, remove the bottle, being careful not to spill any drops from your little eye pool.
Now…blink. Quickly, slowly, whichever method works for you.
Keep blinking. I find that doing it really fast, while looking waaaaay up, works well.
As you blink, the drops will slowly spread over your whole eye. Ahhh….relief at last.
Repeat as necessary.
Because that wasn’t so bad AT ALL. And it feels so good.
TADA! Far better than trying to keep your eyes OPEN while you PUT STUFF IN IT, right? People who can do that are weird. They must have some sort of strange eye perversion. Or something.
Feel free to send royalties, gushing admiration and undying loyalty.
I really love this country I live in. I always have, and I always will. But like parents with a difficult child, I have to admit that liking this country has been a real challenge for the past decade or so. I found it hard, near impossible in fact, to hold my head up high and say that I am an American. I questioned the ethics of my leaders, their motives, and I watched as policies and actions were carried out which seemed to have ambiguous value for the country, as well as very little moral ground on which to stand.
I don’t feel that way now.
I’m not saying it’s perfect; far from it. But I can certainly hold my head up again.
Happy fourth of July, everyone. I leave you with one of my most popular blog posts.
This last one wasn’t the earth-shattering, jaw dropping, earthquakes-on-every-plane-of-my-existence, Razor’s-Edge-can-kiss-my-ass amazing that the first one was, but one thing is absolutely, without a doubt certain: My life will never, ever be the same.
And in a good way! (Excuse me while I do a bit of a Snoopy in Peanuts-inspired happy dance)
It’s amazing how a seemingly inconsequential shift in paradigm can have such a subtle yet profound effect on one’s life.
I might be smiling an average of .08% more from now on.