fleeting foxes

(found here)

So last Wednesday, Chris and I decided we were young and free and fully capable of staying up to see the Fleet Foxes late night show at the 9:30 Club. By late night I mean, doors opened at 10:30 p.m. and the Foxes didn't go on until 12:00 a.m.

Amazing brilliant beautiful show.
Awful terrible horrible idea.

By 9:45 p.m. I was deliriously dancing around in my room to Beyonce's "Single Ladies" trying to stay awake. Not that weird, except that "Single Ladies" was not playing on any one of my music players; rather, it was playing in my head, and I was singing it to Chris. "Chris! Chris! [swivel hips] All you single ladies! (all you single ladies) [toss hair] All you single ladies! (all you single ladies)." He was on the computer trying to ignore me.

10:00 p.m. I have now laid down on my yoga mat to "stretch out my back" a.k.a. lie down and close my eyes because all I want to do is shower and crawl into bed clean and sleepy. Chris knows this trick. Sometimes when he wants to watch The Daily Show at night or listen to a Tim Keller sermon I pull this one on him. "I'm just going to just rest my back for a minute and ..... ..... ..... zzzzzzzzzzzzz."

10:05 p.m. Chris comes over with his computer. He's begun relearning Mandarin on a trial version of Rosetta Stone. To keep me awake, he decides I should go through lesson 1. I rally my strength long enough to learn how to say "This little girl drinks water" in Mandarin. Five minutes later, I promptly forget it.

10:30 p.m. We go out, we are alive, we are happy, we are excited. We are so. damn. tired.

11:00 p.m. It's like bloody hipster-palooza at the 9:30 club. Girls in skinny jeans and headbands, '60s bangs and loose tshirts. Guys in skinnier jeans, flannel shirts, and big plastic pilot lens glasses. Chris and I feel inferior and superior at the same time.

12:00 a.m. Fleet Foxes go on and they are amazing. Truly, if they swing by your part of the world, please go and revel in their harmonies, lyrics, instrumentals, flannel, and beards. They are Seattle grunge reincarnated ... and with any reincarnated life form, they are more lovely and delightful than their '90s visage. Don't believe me? Watch this.

1:00 a.m. We've had enough. We are old. We can no longer do these kinds of things (but did I ever do these kinds of things? Have I missed my chance at reckless youth?) We catch a cab home.

It was fun though. I'm glad we went and my dreams were in four-part harmony all night long. Thanks Fleet Foxes, for the fun. Thanks Chris, for suffering on my behalf.

What did you do this weekend?