01.22.05

Went to the slam at PCC-Cascade last evening. When I got there, the place smelled of sewage and I got pressed into service as the scorekeeper.

Scorekeeper. My idea of hell. I am happy that I was surrounded by people who are also terrible at arithmetic. And the ones who were good didn't point and laugh so that I noticed.

*laugh* I'm ashamed that I'm so bad at arithmetic. I expect it to come as easily as language skills. Oof.

The poets were interesting. I could tell that they're still young and developing voices and themes; but there were moments of good in each poem.

After the slam, it was on to the Know (inevitable lame joke here: we were in the Know- bwah-ha-hah). Sat and talked, piled into cars and to Fantasy video for b-day presents for Dapper-D.

The wall o' vibrators had me, Mlle.E. and Binkie speechless for a brief moment. Then a rush of conversation--all of us, at once. It was so girly and so fun.

Of to the b-day party at a bizarre place called, I think, Grandma's. It's a basement bar that is a series of small, connecting rooms. There are pool tables in the back and a fireplace. There's a room scarcely larger than the table in it, and the front room. All over the walls are fantastical wood carvings of tea chests, logs, and other fanciful things. I grabbed a menu and read that the Grandma of Grandma's was a wood-carver. She decorated the entire place.

On top of the strangeness of the interior, there are random, faded red velvet blisters/hemorrhoid things hanging from the ceiling. Each one enhanced by upholstery fringe. The original fringe colour blocked by years of cigarette smoke and grease.

Add to that--the karaoke! The dj who would pull out the inflatable bass and strum it as back-up. I wonder what dream he acted out. People got up and sang. A man fell off his barstool as he attempted come-hither speech at Binkie.

Quite an amusing evening.

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