drunkblogging the Midwest Independent Film Fest

oh man. I haven't had a good night's sleep in so long. So I drank a lot of vodka. I want to sleep. Shaddup. So I end up blogging. I"M WAITING FER BRANDON. T'COME HOME. Geez.

stop it.

Here's a picture.

My friend is on the council for this film festival.

Friend: Come to this festival! it is easy and it will be fun and you should do it.
Me: Okay, sure! (NO WAY EVER NO)

-time lapses-

Friend: seriously, come to the festival already. I'm on the damn council for it now.
Me: is it free?
Friend: Yes.
Me: is there alcohol?
Friend: Yes.
Me: okay FINE. Ugggggghhhhhhhhhahhhh. (pause) UGHHHGHG.
So I went. And I spent, actually, a minimal amount of time clutching my plastic cup of wine and thinking, I don't know ANYONE. Then my friend came over, she brought more people, they were SO nice, I had several lovely conversations that were -surprsingly- NOT douchey. In fact, everyone was great. I had a wonderful time.

I also saw a great movie. America the Beautiful. Look, I won't lie, it's not The Hymen Parable, and it was a little long, but it was one of the better documentaries I've seen. I place it above Spellbound. That's right.

Then I tried to go home, but... it got complicated.

Friend: So you're going to the afterparty, right?
Me: is it free?
Friend: Yes.
Me: is there alcohol?
Friend: Yes.
Me: okay FINE. Ugggggghhhhhhhhhahhhh.

Friend: Let's go talk to the filmmaker [who made the badass documentary we just watched].
Me: Okay, sure! (looks for an escape route, finds self dragged to filmmaker)
Me: Shit.

Schmoozing ensues. ACTUALLY DELIGHTFUL. What the hell. Life is full of surprises. I'm used to being the pushy friend. I was very happy to get pushed around by my friend.

Moral of the story:
Go to the Midwest Independent Film Festival. First Tuesday of every month. It is good. People are nice. That one movie I saw was good. There is alcohol.

Okay then. Brandon is home.


Urraca said...


Prepe your liver for the next installment. I want to go with you!

Corrbette said...

So getting dragged around with you means vodka and conversation that is suprisingly free of douchebaggery? Why am I not dragged around with you more often?