prom queen of pinedale

well, the cleansing worked; our next stop the next day? pinedale, wyoming.

here's what was mindblowing about pinedale - the set up was EXACTLY the same. exactly. we were performing in the high school auditorium (probably like, a 400 seater) in the middle of what one would guess to be a relatively conservative area. the difference? the people. pinedale had advertised our show as nc-13 or something, a term that doesn't really exist, but that we were psyched about - that meant no kids (or babies) at our show, and the whole crowd had been warned about what they were going to see. they came, they laughed a lot, our contacts were great, and we were happy as clams.

better than even a great show? the best night out maybe ever. we were staying at a lodge next to a sinclair gas station (something i think i've only seen out west- the stations with the green dino on top), about a block down from the cowboy-est bar ever made. picture it: sicily, 1931. wait! picture it: we walked into this bar, pretty much the only game in town, and honest to god prrrrretty much heard the record screech sound you hear in every promo to alert you something has gone horribly wrong. city folk! then, every patron in this bar recognized us right away, cheered, and bought us a shitload of beers.

chicagoans, imagine a "real" carol's. that's where we were.

here's the cast of characters i met in pinedale that i can remember:
*catie, the bartender - this woman was maybe my favorite of all stops on this trip. brassy, ballsy, mid-forties platinum blonde with a nice rack, the kind of mouth a sailor would be nervous about. she wore her hair in a bouffant, had a farmer's tan, smeary black eyeliner, and a voice like fine sandpaper. she was the kind of lady that took no shit, but then quickly realized we were cool and was all winks and smiles. she got drunk with us and did a bunch of shots one for one and talked to us about the city. she had tattoos of her chakras up her back and pulled her tank top up to show us. no shame, nothing but perfect. she said she might come visit. this is my dream.

*scott christiansen, the marlboro man - a silver fox of a cowboy, a man i was just sitting next to, i believe, at the beginning of the night. he did not see the show (he's a fucking cowboy) but noticed the stir of all of us coming in. we all struck up a conversation, and before i knew it, i was wearing his hat and two stepping a bit. i don't really know what happened here. i know at one point, he said something like, "i'm old enough to be your daddy", and i was like, mmm, i guess?, but i kissed him anyway. just a little one, don't freak out. HE WAS A COWBOY.

*lulu, the bisexual girl of wyoming - earlier in the evening, as we were going into the bar, i saw a semi-butch baseball capped woman walking into the same bar we were going to. after about 10 seconds, i realized it was a guy. to meghan teal aloud i said "well, the only lesbian in wyoming is a man". she lost it, and we continued to wonder if there were any gays at all around us that were out; i found her, about 3 hours later and 8 miller lites in. lulu, the 22 year old native american bisexual. long dark hair, had a lot of words for me. i kissed her too. SHE WAS A BISEXUAL.

*the sheriff and his underling: bulletproof vested cops came in around 2 to make sure the peace was being kept. we took pictures with them and they threw us around a little while. i kissed them too - THEY WERE SHERI - just jokes.

brian jack, after my drunken debauchery and ragtag crew of fans, named me the prom queen of pinedale. i love this title. i really hope i win again next year.

upon stumbling back to the hotel, meghan and i were so drunk that we fell into the lobby. like, fell. and katie went to get us 14 packs of gardetto's, something i'll always be thankful for. we found a rye crisp the next on our bedspread, and i laughed harder than i think i ever have.