Photos: Downtown Portland last spring when I was walking back from the doctor’s office and have nothing to do with this post.
(If you believe in it, it doesn’t exist, if you don’t believe in it, it does.) The show let out by 9:20pm which was perfect. We weren’t the oldest people there. Other than old people there were young people and, of course, the requisite hipsters: the guy with the goofy knit hat with huge earflaps and lined with fur (what are those hats called?) which he wore during the entire show, the good looking jock type who walked up the aisle using his outside voice and big arm gestures to make sure we were all looking at him (I assured him we were) and the drunk loud can’t-stop-talking chick also with the flapping arms who manages to find us and position herself near us at every event we attend. I can’t stand this girl.
We must have done something terrible in a past life to be continually punished like this. Please girl, leave us alone. Tell us how we can appease you.
The beer line was long. Upstairs was the faint smell of Otto’s jacket. The show was not sold out but well attended. About 5 minutes before curtain an endless stream of people came in and went to the front looking for seats. Why?
I don’t know how to review a comedy show. There were two other comics on the bill with Demetri and they were all funny. The middle guy did a riff about losing your cellphone and not having any of your phone numbers and feeling alone. I’m probably the only person in America who writes all my phone numbers down, on paper, and then dials them in when I use the cellphone. I am by no means suggesting that this is an intelligent thing to do.
Demetri was hilarious and looks like he’s about 12 years old. He played guitar, harmonica, little bells on the floor that you hit with your foot, tambourine and keyboard. Usually two or three at a time.
I’d love to sit here and make this post better but I have a few moments and I’m going to deal with that banking thing I was whining about yesterday.