Saturday, May 2, 2009

that's special, too ...

i'm as stunned as you: i did not go out tonite. during homegrown. the greatest duluth holiday in all the world over.

i had the best intentions. totally wanted to see decellerati, and the tisdales. everthing else would just be fun filler. but when i got home at 8 p.m., i involuntarily put on my pajama pants, removed my contact lenses, and cozied into the couch next to a fellar who said a sentence with " ... order pizza ..." as it's action verb.

sold.

i still thought i'd go out. it's homegrown! chaos! sweat! people! music! single servings of gyro pizza! pbr!

i knew i'd have to go out alone and latch on to friends. all of my friends were working or boring or had uncontrollable diarrhea [true story] . but homegrown is probably like movies in theaters: just fine viewed alone.

when chuck left for work, i was still thinking about it. although, it was going to take the jaws of life to get me out of these sweatpants.

i cracked a beer.
i decided that if i went out i'd wear sweatpants.
i started following the twitter feed of events.
sounded fun.
fun enough to get the gist of by reading it in the comfort of the red room, in sweatpants, with a beer.

so i totally skipped homegrown friday. but i read about it, refreshing every half hour. it's not exactly the same experience, but i bet i'll make up for it on homegrown saturday.

chuck sent me a text that said "someday homegrown will be like the superbowl. we'll be proud not to know who's playing."

next september, when i complain about being bored, please remind me that i made this decision to stay home on a night when fun was free for the taking. then punch me in the teeth.

but seriously: there is something to be said for listening to the replacements and playing farmtown on facebook. that's special, too.

2 comments:

chuck said...

When have you ever complained about being bored? That's something that just doesn't happen.

nanners said...

i take back that reply e-mail about you being drunk. unless you play farmtown drunk.