On Ingrid Michaelson, Lingerie Shorts, and Intimate Moments with Strangers' Dogs

Ingrid Michaelson talking to a fly on her arm

Here are noteworthy parts of my Tuesday. 

First, there was the conference I helped plan for work. Some highlights:

• The venue looked like the Crossroads Motel from Breaking Bad from the outside. On the inside, it was saloon-themed and covered in tile that most likely came from a McDonald's built in the 1970's. Tile and trellises everywhere. If anyone needs a reception location for a shotgun wedding, I know one that's probably available that day.
• On what was maybe the least stressful day of all time, the woman I was working for kept running around and saying, "Make it work! Like Tim Gunn! We're on Project Runway!" We were not on Project Runway. We were discussing rural wealth with small town mayors.
• My personal computer ended up being used to show PowerPoints. In between every speaker, this picture of DiMaggio (my desktop background) was shown to 200 of my least close friends

This M83 song is the only caption that fits.

Basically a good time might have been had by some. 

After that I changed in my car (in the parking lot of a sketchy motel, I know) into a pair of shorts that my mom said look like lingerie. However, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't attract even the most CraigsList post-y man, and I like them. So armed with Leandra's advice, stories of the two Prom nights I spent babysitting, and eighteen years of success, I vowed not to attract nor talk to anyone who appeared male and wore them. 

No one hits on a girl with a pleather jacket tied around her waist.

Then I drove back to Indianapolis and had time to kill before meeting my friend for Ingrid Michaelson's show. I spent part of it reading Ayn Rand behind a column at a Cajun restaurant and the other part calling my sister from a bench. During that bench time, a cute dog on a walk came over and licked me on the face. At the time I thought it was fine, most likely because I have been desensitized to dog slobber by living with this guy for 3 years:

Precious face-licking dog nugget

Ten minutes later, I realized it is probably not socially acceptable to have intimate moments with strangers' dogs. Five minutes after that, I was pretty okay with it again. That leads me to the questions of the week: How much interaction with a stranger's dog is too much? Is it like a baby where you shouldn't touch it without direct permission? Should you ever let a stranger's dog lick you on the face? Did that dog lick my face because it saw my lingerie shorts?

After I stopped worrying about whether the dog was rabid, I met my friend for one of my favorite concerts I have ever seen (and I go to a lot of shows). She was also wearing pleather.

Pleather galore

Much to no one's surprise and everyone's delight--probably mostly my mom's (Hi, Mom!)--no straight, single men go to Ingrid Michaelson concerts. Although if you are a straight, single, desperate man, going to one of her shows could be the indie equivalent of going to a Twilight premiere.

Her husband, Greg Laswell, opened. Here's a picture of him singing songs.

If you want an idea of what he sounded like while wearing that fedora and playing guitar, listen to this. I was pretty into it. Then he sang with Ingrid, then the opening set ended. 

After that Ingrid's set began. Before she came on, this Ke$ha song played, which surprisingly set the tone for a way more uptempo show than I was expecting. Then Ingrid sang a bunch of songs. Most were from her new album, but she also did amazing covers of Skinny Love by Bon Iver and We Found Love by Rihanna. Her voice is as perfect live as when recorded, and she told great stories in between songs and interacted with the audience a ton. See her live if you ever get a chance.

Ingrid singing this song with Greg Laswell

An added bonus of the show was seeing her bandmates, Allie Moss and Bess Rogers. They're also flawless. I'm a huge Allie Moss fan (check this out), and the two lines of Somewhere Over the Rainbow that she sang would have put Connie Talbot to shame.

Basically the show was perfect, and I successfully did not attract any male attention while wearing the lingerie shorts. It more than made up for my afternoon at the McDonald's motel.