Last night I went out to a show with my sister Marcy, her boyfriend Sam and Marcy's grade school buddy Monica. We went to see Mark Farina at Neumos. The doors opened at 9pm, which meant the headline act wasn't going to be on stage until at least 11pm. We had some time to kill so we met up around a quarter to ten at Moe's - the bar adjacent to Neumos and hung out.
Farina is a San Franciso dj who breaks out mushroom jazz with straight up house beats, sure to make you shake your hiney. Against my better dancing judgement, I doned my knee high heeled boots, jeans and a black short sleeve button up shirt. Farina took to the stage and we started to boogie down. It was loud. And I forgot my "I'm over thirty" ear plugs. So as the night wore on, my hearing was done for.
Monica and I at one point took a water break. As we were hovering near the watering can, a guy comes up behind me and asks me if I want to dance. I say no, but apparently wasn't convincing in my rejection; he persists. I tell him no again and he decides to start having a conversation.
"How do you know Mark Farina?"
"WHAT?" (Mind you it is loud and we've been listening to break beats, drum and bass and house shrieks full throttle for nearly three hours now.)
"How do you know Mark Farina?"
"WHAT!?"
"Are you his sister or something?"
"OH! MARK FARINA! I THOUGHT YOU ASKED ME IF I KNEW HOW TO DO THE MACARENA! And no I will not dance with you!"
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