make me a match

I really wanted to watch Driving Lessons, but sadly the technology available to me does not read the "back-up" copy of the movie I have. Looks like I won't be enjoying a moody Rupert Grint set to a soundtrack by Sufjan Stevens tonight after all. Mreh.
Instead, I am watching the movie The Matchmaker. I don't want to sound too hipster, but if you haven't heard of it, I'm not surprised.

Shit. That sounds incredibly hipster.

I will set the scene:
Janeane Garofalo is (surprise!) a single and cynical thirtysomething sent to Ireland for work and finds herself in the middle of the annual matchmaking festival.  She scoffs at romance in general and ignores the beauty of the Irish countryside because she just needs to get her job done, goddammit, and get home. It's kind of like a Katherine Heigl movie in the 90s. Except with less attractive people and more sheep. Everything goes wrong, no one is moving fast enough, and her hotel room is frustratingly inadequate. But amidst all this turmoil and the horror of spending a week among verdant countryside and friendly people, might she find love where she least expects it?  Well, you're just going to have to watch it and find out for yourself.

I like it.  There's a reason I put it in, of course. I have only seen it once and can't quite remember if I liked it or not, but I just finished watching The IT Crowd through the 4th season, and I find myself thirsting for more Irish accents.  Maybe I should have watched The Commitments. ...maybe I'll watch it next. But for now I am watching The Matchmaker and it is the perfect match for my movie-watching needs right now.  Even if it doesn't feature Rupert Grint.


by the way, if you haven't already, and I haven't already told you, and you haven't already bugged me to watch it for several months, then you should watch The IT Crowd. Go on. Scoot on over to Netflix for a few hours.

when Irish eyes are smiling

OK, something happened this weekend and I haven't even written about it yet. Tragic. Typical.

On Saturday night I went to a St. Patrick's day party. Not as a guest, mind you, but as entertainment. Yep.
This does not mean I was a magician, comedian, dancer, clown, mime or one of those people at Disney that dress up like the cartoons and talk in a high-pitched voice to sound more like the character.

I got paid (PAID!) to play Irish fiddle. For a crowded house party full of AARP members.  ...that's just speculation. They're probably not all members. People under 50 at this party:

• Me
• friends I brought: Shane, Jenna, Katelyn
• that 25 year old from down the street who lives with his parents
• two Irish dancers, high-schoolers, one of which looked like she might be hiding a shiv in their hairpiece.

To get to this house we had to drive 30 minutes out of downtown and into the 'burbs, through the marshland, past the gatekeeper (who incorrectly told us we were late, jerk), past the boat parking lot (that's right. a parking lot. for boats. in a gated community. these people were sitting on some money) to the house with the green lights in the bushes.

I played for a while, then paired with a 65-year old on the accordion. A man I found out (through the mysterious connecting the dots I somehow learned from my mother) that he has danced at some feis (fesh) recently in New Jersey with my Aunt Dia who lives in New Orleans. It's a small world after all.

Katelyn left with the 25 year old's number, I gave mine to the accordion player and left with a nice chunk of change in my pocket. Not because I gave my number to an old guy. Because of the fiddling.

I played some singing songs for drunken red-faced Irishmen and at one point during the night an older gentleman came over to me and leaned in close to my face. I hate it when people do that. I smile widely, uncomfortably. Throughout the party, all I have been doing is grinning like an idiot. Partly because I am happy this gig isn't turning into the disaster I'd feared, and also because I don't know what else to do with my face. I'm expecting him to say something deeply heartfelt and appreciative about my playing, and then he opens his mouth. "You," he says, angling his eyes at me, "have nice teeth."
Why thank you, please feel free to contact my dentist Dr. Leach and Dr. Awbrey, my orthodontist, for comments and/or questions.
Mind you, this is a different fellow than the man who said, "they've got great legs!"  after the Irish dancer's mother explained the intensity and dedication required by the sport.

It turned out to be a nice night, and way less embarrassing or difficult than I had anticipated. Shane took a video of me playing one of my tunes, the High Reel. Feel free to watch. At one point I stumbled a bit because I looked up and saw a man staring at me from the kitchen.