a chronological narrative.
all times are approximate.

7:45pm. the hostess at the brewhouse tells sam, jason, and i that our table is ready, 15 minutes after annie ragsdale had begun her set. we enter the restaurant and take a sharp left - directly into the back room, where we can neither see nor hear annie. we ask to be moved and order our meals. sam may or may not have been a tiny bit snarky to the waitress.

8:10pm. the three of us are re-seated smack dab under annie's nose. slightly awkward, but better than before. we play cards and enjoy annie's cute music.

8:45pm. teague alexy takes the tiny-ass stage. he's cute. his songs are very folksy and surprisingly good. he eventually calls his brother ian onstage, and the two proceed to kick my ass.

9:15pm. i reach for my cell phone to check the time and see that i've missed three calls from dan in a fairly short amount of time, so i step out of the brewhouse to call him. there were scheduling mishaps, he needed mark lindquist's number, it's not important. i push my way through the tiny restaurant to get back to my table. this is when i first realize what a terrible venue the brewhouse really is.

9:25pm. teague is finishing up, and it's time to smoke before jerree small goes on. i have my cigarette and make pleasant conversation with a nice man outside. i return to the brewhouse to see an older woman sitting in my seat next to jason, and sam is nowhere in sight. jason & i join kristen's table -- the second re-seating of the night.

9:45pm. i look at our old table and curse my luck.

9:50pm. kristen and renee leave to see noble haze at beaners. jason, sam, and i are enjoying jerree small. the waitress comes up to us and asks us to move. fine.

9:55pm. we've taken to standing in the very back of the venue against the gigantic pipe thing. it's an awkward position because it's right between the door and the back room we were previously seated in, so waitresses are running back and forth, people are entering and exiting the restaurant, and we can't see a damn thing. we grumble about how we are NEVER SEEING MUSIC AT THE GODDAMN BREWHOUSE AGAIN.

10:05pm. jason and i have been watching al sparhawk, who had entered the venue a few minutes earlier. we've been discussing his cultural impact on duluth, and his probable luck with free snickers bars.

10:20pm. sam is sick and wants to go home. we take sam home, promising to call her for the trampled by turtles show.

10:35pm. jason and i re-enter the fitgers complex (after having a hell of a time finding a parking space) and decide to head straight to the red star for some if thousands and portrait of a drowned man action. we reach the entrance and flash our gold sparkly wristbands.
"IDs, please," the bouncer says. i flash my wristband again in what could be construed as a slightly bitchy way. "i saw it," the bouncer snaps. "IDs."
"we're under 21," i say. "we're here for the shows."
"this is a 21+ venue, ma'am," the bouncer says, with a slight touch of sarcasm.
"are you SERIOUS?" i shout, angrily.
"well, most bars are 21+," he says, through hiding his annoyance.
"this is fucking ridiculous," i say, feeling no remorse about my curse word echoing through the halls of the fitgers complex. i grab jason's elbow, snatched up a ripsaw, and stand around the corner, trying to figure out what to do next. we are pissed. we are beyond pissed.

10:55pm. still furious, jason and i are headed to pizza luce. we decided to settle for no wait wait and sight like december before we see trampled by turtles, but neither of us are real happy about it. we enter pizza luce with no hassle (after i get some sort of pagan symbols drawn on my hands by that creepy guy with the gross hair). i'm actually enjoying no wait wait, and i am becoming slightly less angry at the stupid red star.

11:15pm. kristen and renee show up at luce. no wait wait is nearly done with their set, but not before al sparhawk goes running up onto the stage and sings along in the drummer's mic. he also plays a mean tambourine.

11:40pm. sight like december takes the stage. to accurately portray their portion of the evening, i have written an open letter to the band:

dear sight like december,
pick a genre. i'm not kidding. you have an alto saxophone. you have a fiddle (or perhaps it's a violin). and then you try to be emo part of the time. i'm officially telling you that it does not work. some of the stuff you played later in your set really kicked ass, but when you were trying to do the emo/borderline-hardcore music, you sucked. you sucked a lot. so either be an awful emo band, or be a pretty good pop-rock band. the choice is yours.
-an unintentional audience member
ps: your saxophone player is hot. i mean, REALLY hot.

12:35pm. trampled by turtles get onstage. everyone crowds up front. and then the dancing starts. and then the pushing. and the pot smoking. and the jumping and yelling and flailing and elbows and hair and beer and kicking and shouting and fist-pumping. it was hardcore. kristen and i see jaimeson from mpirg, drunker than half the people at luce, and wearing a nametag that says "natalie." he mentions something about his hands smelling like maple syrup and calls me "DEMOCRAT!" because he was unsure of my name. his sunglasses are awesome. and then i get hit in the mouth by someone's elbow.

1:55am. trampled by turtles announces that they have about four songs left. i am really really tired. i leave to sit by renee to cool down and see jerree small standing on the very same booth. i like when i see local artists jamming to other local artists. anyway, i regain my awesome spot atop the booth with renee. dan tells me he's leaving, and i jump at the chance to go home and go to bed. we bitch about 21+ and tim nelson fucking up.

2:10am. bed.

there was my weekend.

good luck this week, kids.

clifford out.