Who types with his thumbs up, is brainwashed by The Man and covered in melanin???
Oh wait, ANNNND he likes Kurt Vonnegut?
Ok, I messed that up. See I wanted to explain that I went to this Kurt Vonnegut party this Saturday, and I don't know, not to be all racist about it, but it just seems like such a "white thing" to do. I just feel if I were chilling in the jungles of Africa and had never laid eyes on a white person before, for whatever reason, I don't think I'd be in "DUMBO" checking out "Evening of Champions" in some new "artist loft space (sorry, quotes button broke from overuse).
Yet and still, somewhere along the way "The Man" got to me, and I must confess, I was intrigued when my friend, who was performing, passed the flyer on. I couldn't read the text well, but I remember looking at the images and thinking, hmmmm, an evening with an Old White Man and The Ghosts of Slavemaster's Past. Sounds like my kind of band... I'm in!
Plus -- and clearly of more importance -- I was gonna go with a girl. A cute girl! A cute girl who knows sports!!! OMG OMG OMG!!! A cute girl who knows sports BUT ... she's from the Boston area. *sound of crashing expectations* Booooo! (Due to the Patriots, Red Sox and Celtics recent success every New England girl is an expert in all three sports, so they're to be avoided in general.)
Lucky for me, this was no ordinary
That sounds great, but there are problems: 1. K is hot, smart, funny and thus, out of my league. 2. She's become good friends with this girl I'm actively hearting at the moment (aww ... hi, you're out of my league too!). So even if I did somehow find The Lost Pheromones of Tom Brady, the sexual tension would still be doomed to simmer forever in Friend Zone purgatory just on the strength of the BFF Code of Proper Sexual Conduct.
Now I haven't been out on a Friend Zone date in years. That's how I roll. To me "Friend Zone" means you want to use the extra-thick condoms that suck so we don't get all into it. So I wondered how this evening was going to go. And after the jump we'll find out if Friend Zone turned into End Zone, how to introduce yourself if you recognize The Assimilated Negro, and if K and I ended up learning anything about Durty Kurt Vonnegut.
--------- this is not a real jump. your ad here for, say, $500. Act now! ----------
The night begins at Union Bar, which is sort of a glorified-frat-house meets downtown-NYC type bar. It's relatively early in the evening, maybe 8PM, and the place is just getting warmed up. I order a glass of Pinot Noir cause, y'know, I'm gonna be the snobby cultural black dude that no one in the glorified frat house can say anything to cause they all reek so strong of obnoxious entitlement that I have legal grounds to beat the stink out of them based on their very existence amounting to a premeditated, AND RACIAL, assault on my person. Also, that's how I roll. So I get the glass of wine and break out my moleskine notepad and commence with looking like a dark man of mystery who wandered into the wrong bar.
I get my first glass down and start on a second when K arrives. Now as I've established K is an attractive girl etc etc, but I was a little bemused by her outfit which looked a little like she had to borrow clothes after a sleep over at Sarah Maclachlan's place. Someone was very aware that this was a creative/concept party in Brooklyn is all I'm saying.
Anyboho, I'd been recruiting K to serve on my Council of Caucasian Females who are advising me on relevant aspects of my forthcoming book .... (forthcoming as in I'm now finally writing my proposal, not that I have a publisher. whatever. like it's not gonna be the most racist thing on earth if I don't find a publisher for Black Men, White Women: A Love Story.)
So we're talking, and heavens, the conversation is so free and easy and wonderful! I was really enjoying the Friend Zone. Who knew? Having the freedom to talk about everything in life without the distraction or innuendo of sexual impulses, it's great! It kinda makes me a little envious of ugly people, they must have such awesome convo ALL THE TIME.
After a few rounds, we head to the party in DUMBO, and the whole hood looks very much like a place where people -- unhip Manhattanites, I'm sure -- get killed late at night. If I wanted to murder and have any sense of artistry about it, it would def be under one of these NYC bridges. I mention this to K and she says something about no one being able to kill the Patriots.
We find the party without little hassle, and the place is crowded with hipster-lite brooklyn people, but the atmosphere is boisterous, the music is good, my friend's lady is handling drinks and everything's all gravy. Yay BK party!
Not long after arriving I have the unique experience -- unique to me and some a and b list celebrities -- of being recognized by a stranger. This is always a treat for me cause it's not like, "oh, are you Tom Cruise?" or "Are you Tyra Banks?" It's "oh, are you ........ the ............... assimilated ........................." and then I have to let them off the hook by announcing myself and confirming their suspicions or else they think they have the wrong guy.
But this guy was pretty direct, and once names are established K and I start talking to my new TAN friend. He's eventually joined by some cute hipster chick from the crowd. After further intros, I asked how they met and they tell me some cutesy story about making eyes on the train platform and him making a move. Aww. But then suddenly things turn sour. I asked a follow-up question and the girl started giving me attitude, and the guy was at a loss. It felt like one of those scenarios where a couple is in a honeymoon phase, and they're all giggly and bubbly telling some friends at a party, and then someone asks a question that neither honeymooner had considered to that point, and all of a sudden the honeymoon is over and you just witnessed it. Like this couple who found love via train and internet. At some point they're going to look at each other and be like, oh, we met on the train. This is retarded. Bye. So it felt like K and I facilitated that lovely moment for our new buddies. Hope they like the Friend Zone!
One pleasant surprise at the party were a couple old college friends being present. I'm so proud of so many peoples from my freshman year because our class broke all sorts of low-performance records. We had something like an 80% academic-probation rate (holla!), and did a lot of the dirty work to get us, a small liberal arts college, into the the mix with the big state schools like Florida State for rankings related to alcohol and drug consumption per capita. Despite the destruction of our brains and livers, many are now legitimate success stories. There's Alex, who co-founded Dodgeball, and then got purchased by Google. And Kevin, who designs sites for the NY Times and WSJ and other high profile clients. And me .... blogging .......
I just think it sets a good example for new generations that you can party hard, and work hard, and have that big NYC kind of success if you put your mind to it ... and, you're white.
An hour or two into the festivities someone breaks out a pull-up bar. I don't have much to say about this except Caucasians doing pull-ups at parties are at high risk of receiving the Crackdown Aluminum:
Anycrazy, the drinks had been cheap, and K and I had been drinking for 5-6 hours straight without eating, so we were pretty lubed up by the wee hours. FRIENDS! So we decided to find some food ... as friends. And after eating we planned to go home .....NOT TOGETHER. Even though we were so drunk, and when I'm so drunk all I do is fantasize about food and .... FRIENDSHIP. I honestly don't remember learning anything about Vonnegut Saturday night, I think that element was part of some Nigerian Scam or something, but as I put K in a cab so she could go home, alone, I couldn't help but wonder what KV's thoughts on the friend zone were. From a look at the flyer methinks he probably had plenty of insightful thoughts on the subject.