OK, enough with the SXSW bellyachin'. I got out of the house, and away from child rearing duties, for the day!
The Man and I started at cross purposes; I had visions of driving downtown by myself first thing in the morning, and then idling around downtown by myself, sipping coffee and reading the paper at Jo's, until Ms. Noxious and her friend Alison could join me. The Man thought it more prudent for me to take the bus downtown, and not pollute the air in the process. I did not want to take the extra forty-five minutes to get down there, prudent as it may have been - and I was a bit defensive on this point; yes, I was, as I had been the one on kid duty for the past week, and particularly for the last three nights straight. Ms. Noxious and Alison saved the day, however, as they arrived just in time, and provided both of us with a solution that made us happy.
We arrived at Mojo's Mayhem at the Continental Club at about 10:45, and I started drinking Bloody Marys. (With all that celery and greenery in them, those Bloody Marys made me feel positively healthy. As Ms. Noxious pointed out, they're like a little salad in a cup!) Mojo Nixon was on-hand to emcee the whole thing. He's older, grayer, and paunchier than he was when I first saw him at the Blue Note in Columbia, MO when I was 19; however, he still inspires the same brand of drunken lunacy as he did back when he was singing "Stuffin' Martha's Muffin" and "Debbie Gibson is Pregnant (With My Two-Headed Love Child)." It's good to actually be of drinking age now, though.
We missed the jalapeno pancakes, but I wasn't really broken up about that. (I am unintrigued by the potential combination of jalapenos and maple syrup.) An interesting band called The Rokkatones were playing...I don't really know how to describe them, other than a collection of hyphenations - country/reggae/oldtimey? They had a guy playing the steel drum, a gal playing tom-toms, and another guy playing a keyboard that you blow into. They were fun; I'd definitely check them out again.
Right after that, an Australian band called the Beasts of Bourbon played. Now, again, a band can easily have me at the name, and this band easily had one of the best names I've heard in a while. They were Rawk and Roll, children, down to the unwashed hair and the "target" tattoos on the inner arm, right above the vein. The lead singer postured and stalked; he resembled Jim Morrison channeling Mick Jagger. I was unsure what to make of them at first - serious, or not? After a song or two, I decided that, obvious rock-and-roll-lifestyle or not, their tongue was very well-acquainted with their cheek, and I did truly enjoy myself.
The best band we saw was right after them, though - another excellently named band, The Mother Truckers. As can probably be derived from their name, they play rockin' hillbilly music. I love bands with interesting lyrics, great harmonies, and girls that play smokin' guitar, and this band had them all. Totally go check them out.
After they were over, Ms. Noxious and I decided - against our better judgment - that we should call our respective husbands to see if they were on their way to Auditorium Shores for the kids' concert. We stepped outside to do so - and then promptly realized that we had left the club for good, as there was a line around the block just waiting for some of us to stumble into the sunshine. Our decision made for us, we caught a cab to Auditorium Shores.
We arrived just in time to miss the Sippy Cups, who I'm led to understand are a fun parent-and-kid pleasin' band. The Jellydots began to play after that. Just then, The Man arrived with YG and OG, just in time to hear a few songs (including a cover of The Police's "One World is Enough (For All of Us)" and some enthusiastic shout-outs to Flavor Flav). OG stayed long enough to get a snowcone, and then declared it "too loud," and retired to the perimeter to climb trees with Young Sir Noxious. (So much for having fun with the kiddos!)
With that resounding endorsement ringing in his ears, The Man decided to take the kiddos back home, and the rest of us went to Yard Dog for their free beer/music/fajitas party. Feeling little pain by this point, I indulged in all three of these, and an ill-advised cigarette bummed from Allison. (It is true, and annoyingly cliched, that I will very occasionally smoke, when just drunk enough. I am not proud, but there it is.)
Ms. Noxious went home with her kids, leaving me with Josh, Bret, Bob, and Bill, all of whom decided it was a good idea to go see Josh's friends' band at Kenichi, the swanky sushi restaurant downtown. We were promised free sushi and beer; as it turns out, only the former was true, but hey! Free sushi! The band was great, but the name is escaping me at the moment. (Did I mention that there was beer there, too?)
At about 5:30, Allison called my cell phone to let me know that my ride wagon was here. The gang went out to party on into the night after that, but as Allison was my ride home, and because she was ready to haul my tipsy ass home, the day was done for me. I came home, tag-teamed The Man, and let him continue on the SXSW train without me.
And now? Well, I'm tired! And dehydrated! And though it's not true, I'm bizarrely certain that I embarrassed myself, made somebody hate me, or made out with someone not my husband!
In short, I appear to have had a typical Mags Party Down Drinking Fest.