purse nitters...


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One recent night we ended up at Connor O'Neils (henseforth to be referred to as the pub, since that's what it is). The better half wanted coffee, since he was complaining of exhaustion; but he couldn't have been too tired because he quickly amended his need to Irish Coffee, the best of which can be found at the pub. (They actually use good whiskey, Irish of course. Delish.) Lo and behold the
Indulgers (The link WORKS! Yea! Get me, I wrote code. But what's that big space about?) were playing, unbenownst to myself. I sort of, barely know the band members; I say sort of because we exchange grins and beers on occasion but very little talk. Keeps the mystique alive, I find. Nothing like conversation to kill a good crush.

Anyway, they were in fine form as usual, and I got the typical offers to dance, despite hanging out all night with my very handsome husband. I just don't dance to irish music. It's apparently more fun to listen while holding up a wall, as Damien (the lead singer) has teased on occasion.

The pub is an unusual, special place. For one, I know most of the wait staff, having eaten lunch in there nearly once a week all last year with kid(s) in tow, and they are tolerant of matchbox cars on the fireplace constructed at great expense by Irish stonemasons, and they don't mind when the little one runs from booth to booth and does science experiments with the salt and sugar. Fortunately it's quiet in there at lunch time. Usually some waitress comes and sits down with us and entertains the little ones so I can eat my salad in 4 minutes instead of thirty seconds. Also when I requested it (ok, it was probably just good timing) they put in brewed iced tea which I drink by the gallon.

I also go see the Indulgers nearly every time they play (I need to let a few shows pass without going, before I attain groupie status. One of them actually approached me two shows ago and asked me if I wanted to sit with them. Yuuuck.)

Finally it's special because they have Stella Artois on tap. I guess I could have started with that and forgotten all the other blather.

Lots of different types hang out there - the expatriots of course, so you get some accents, and then there's the regulars. College kids, just a few to improve the general looks of the crowd. Then you get the odd bird that hangs out in a booth next to the band's speaker knitting. And when we asked him what he was knitting, he held up his colorful bit of woven yarn and said proudly, "A purse for my wife."

To which my husband immediately responded, "Dude. You could have said anything. A beer coozie, or a shotgun shell bag, or anything. A purse? Jeesh!"

I commented that I thought the damage had been done just by virtue of the fact that he was knitting while listening to a rock band.

The purse knitter tolerated all of this with a superior little smile. Apparently he knows something we don't.

Our friend, who had been sitting next to the Knitter, popped up for a beer. When he returned he kindly offered me his seat, and I declined as I nearly always would rather stand.

I said, "No, go sit."

But he shook his head. "I don't sit next to purse knitters."

I always thought of Boulder as such a tolerant place, but apparently stereotypes still exist... though what stereotype you associate with guys who knit purses for their wives, I don't know.

Anyway the husband and I had a fine time, bought Damien his thank-you Stella, and left.

Then the next night we stopped in the pub again, noshed some yummy snacks, and met up with the Birthday Boy for a night of being the coolest people out on the town. And BB (which also could stand for Bullshitting Boy) said he'd heard of such of thing before, that there was actually an organized group of them.

"They call themselves Purse Knitters of America," he said knowingly. "or 'PNA'."

To his defense, he'd just had a bottle of wine at dinner and was distracted by his new tattoo, but (tee hee) I plan on emailing this entry to his mother, the retired ENGLISH teacher. Ok, just kidding. But I'll hold it in reserve, just in case...

Oh, yeah, the bustop... Well, I guess it's a draw. No worries, BB. PNA is safe with me.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey man -

I couldn't resist this one. As to knitting, yes, he knows something you don't. As to knitting a purse for your wife in a pub and admitting it to someone - well, that's *special.* All I can say is that is one confident man, ya know? Reminds me of the Firefly where Jayne gets this awful hat his mom knitted. He puts it on and one of the crew says: "A man walks down the street wearing that hat, people know he's not afraid of anything."

I obviously need to spend more time at the pub with you! ;->

Rebecca

sex scenes at starbucks said...

I should have added that I thought the purse-knitter was infinitely more likely to get some when he got home than the other drunken blokes I hung with that night...

Anonymous said...

BB says: So the sad thing is that I had to read it several times again before I realized what the problem was. And nary a bottle of wine in sight. I suck.