I saw Demetri Martin and all I got was whiplash
Dear Diary: Last. Night. Was. Awesome. My friend Nichole won tickets to see Demetri Martin at Macky Auditorium in Boulder, and guess who she chose to be her plus-one? This lucky girl, right here. And can I say, for the record, that the tickets were bomb. So bomb. We were in Row A, seats four and five. "A" as in the first letter of the alphabet and "A" as in front row. I was ten feet from Demetri Martin. And his pants.
I made sure I was properly prepared to see my future husband's nonstop, laugh-a-minute stand-up routine -- I studied his Wikipedia page the night before, so I knew that he was single and allergic to peanuts. I even made sure to take a shower and wear cute, clean underwear to the show, because I knew I'd have to be ready. Ready for Demetri and confident enough to fend off legions of other girls with glasses who wanted to woo him too.
Some other guy named Levi MacDougall opened, but he was weird and not cute. I was not there to see someone who wasn't cute, so I pretty much ignored him and saved all of my real laughs for Demetri -- because he was going to be using a lot of them. I did use some fake laughs for this other guy, though, as to keep from resembling that person who always sat in the front row on Caroline's Comedy Hour looking pissed.
Shortly after weird and not cute guy made some weird jokes about dinosaurs for hands and flipping girls off (that part was funny, at least) my future husband came out, dressed to his dad-like nines. Demetri could do no wrong in my eyes; even as he stood there in a hoodless sweatshirt (who wears hoodless sweatshirts? Dads) and white tennis shoes burning holes in my brain, he still looked like a trillion gorgeous New Jersey bucks.
He jumped right into my heart, cracking fart and volleyball jokes, using his adorable pad of paper to showcase his hilarious drawings and diagrams to point out things in life I too have found especially funny. Demetri and I so have the same sense of humor -- it was crazy how much we were alike!
I basically blacked out during the rest of the set, diary, because I was sitting so close to my future husband I couldn't think about anything else but our impending future.
But after a little more than an hour together, it was time to go. I tried laughing extra big and loud throughout the show, so Demetri knew that I thought he was funny. Hilarious. Oh my god, was he hilarious. He might be the most hilarious man on earth. And, of course, the most beautiful.
I tried to see if he was available after the show, but heavy security kept us apart. (They were the same dudes who prevented me from taking any proof, I mean, camera phone photos of Demetri.) I was heartbroken, but only mildly, because I knew that someday, the universe would align us in a way that would keep the stage lights from blinding him so he could see me and fall madly in love with me and then we would do it like a zillion times and get married and write books together, etc., etc.
Not long after Nichole and I left the venue, a child born in '90s with a driver's license rear-ended me on North Broadway in Boulder. In turn, my car bumped the woman's car in front of me. In turn, I got a ticket, and now I have to go to court in Boulder in March and pay a hundred bucks. Whatevs. I got a little whiplash, but I also got to see my future husband in real life.
Demetri Martin, you were so worth it.
My ticket to see my (future) husband, and my ticket to Boulder County Court.
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