The Con Artist, Barking Dogs and Oscar.

Friday I found myself drinking a couple of cheap beers at the Comet Tavern with my friend Tom who moved here the same weekend and now works for The Stranger. We "gossiped" about Seattle; talked about differences in the Midwest, mainly hanging out as the guy next us finished off a pitcher of beer, eavesdropping the entire time. Getting close to the end of our evening, Tom met this guy leaving the bathroom (scary) who came back to the bar and proceeded to flatter, flaunt and finagle his way into our conversation; convincing us that he was involved with Paul Allen and really did worked with billionaires here in Seattle (there are plenty of them).

He talked about big money, raising big money, handling people with big money. He only owned three suits and tried never to wear them; he was recruited by "many people" in Seattle but only chose one client; he loved dive bars; he just ate at an expensive Italian restaurant down the street (where? Tom inquired as this was his neighborhood and he was looking for such a place). It took me a while to realize eveything he said was public knowledge and that he had as much access to billionaires as I did (besides who drinks Bud Light when you work for a billionaire). Tom had caught on much sooner than I and though fascinated with con artists, had decided it was time to leave. I followed him out and all we could talk about over the next hour (grabbing some famous Jai Thai on Capital Hill) was "What did he want? Money? No, he bought us beers Sex? Maybe but he wasn't aggressive? and Did You Catch That Lie?" It was amusing. People are strange.

Saturday evening found me out with some friends at the Tractor Tavern listening to this Cuban Salsa/Jazz band Picoso who were pretty good. They started off and some dancers immediately broke the line and filled that magical space in front of the stage. Unfortunately the band wanted people even closer and asked everyone to move forward to fill in the space - there went the dance floor. I looked around for an appropriate partner (meaning one who didn't come with his girlfriend) and found a guy out there trying. I thought I would give it a go. It was awful. He had two left feet, two left knees, two left hips. I couldn't grab the beat and stick with it to save my life because he kept crashing into to me. Two songs later, I thanked him and walked back to my crowd. One of my friends laughed, saying she thought I was going to get clothesed-lined the entire time. We left at 1:30 - me green with "salsa dancing partner" envy.

Oscar is a friend of all of us and we celebrated with a small gathering at Pygmy's place. Just as the hype said, it was all about these small films that tackled the tough. Jon Stewart hosted it and my favorite film, Brokeback Mountain, won some but were surprisingly upset by Crash, another fantastic film.

We had a feast of middle eastern food, including stuffed olives, wine, humus, laughter, friends, Listy, Pygmy and Annika and cheering for our favorites and loving them. I know my friend Jen was thrilled as Crash won the best film though Ang Lee took director. (I use to watch the Oscars growing up. I was going to become a filmmaker and make those thought provoking films; I was going to capture the pause, the space between the end of the film and the rolling of credits; the pause between the end of a play and the fall of curtain; that pause where the participant stops and thinks, responds, laugh, cry, declare social injustice, is moved for joy or happiness.) It was just fun to watch the Oscars and pretend that, you too, one day could be a movie star.

Here's a links of my fun filled, three hours of dancing at Rebar:
Carnival/Mardi Gras at Rebar