That's all she wrote ...

Much like Christmas, "Homegrown" is a word that I can barely tolerate the taste of in the aftermath. So let's all just take down the lights and box up the tree until what-say February, 2011. It's the so much that I am so much over. But here are a few of my favorite sights, which I will just have to describe:

Friday night we picked up Chuck's Fannie to take him downtown. I did a lane change and caught a glimpse of him in the back seat. Hmm ... I thought. Flesh-toned T'shirt. That's an interesting look. It was only when I was back face forward that I realized that was a hairy flesh-toned T'shirt. I whipped around and found him topless in the back seat. Like he was two zips from hopping into a sauna.

"It's hot in here," he said.

***

This kicky band at The Main Club that sounded like they would play a Twister party in your basement or a rock opera at 3 a.m. at an underground theater in Northeast Minneapolis.

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A rockabilly show starring four dudes in matching workman jumpsuits at Norm's in Superior. The lead singer incorporated PBR into his act; His flashiest dance move was flipping off the audience. He would not, would not, stop playing. No one really wanted him to.

***

The glam band Bone Appetit's mosh pit, with ladies clamoring to touch Hot Rod Heartthrob's leg. Meanwhile, his mom was sitting on the edge of the stage.

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Free trolley rides down Superior street. And up Superior Street.

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Seeing the same 30 people every day for a week.

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A packed RT Quinlan's that smelled like the beer fart-body odor combo meal. One of my friends looked around and said "I feel like I'm at a senior citizen center." The night devolving into sharpie mustaches and Miller High Life.

***

Running into my sophomore year Homecoming date, and still eking out a bit of social shame over what I wore to that dance. Think Claire's Boutique brand prostitution: Hot pink suede skirt and a multi-color raw silk shirt. Tucked in. With black nylons and black shoes.

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After waiting 15 minutes outside of Pizza Luce deciding: Homegrown. Done with it. Catching a cab for home, the first time in like six years that I haven't seen the final show on the final night.

***

Feeling good enough to go to brunch at Luce on Sunday morning for Brie French Toast with Rnam, Em, and the Rock Star Amy Abts.


And that is all I choose to remember.