Partying With The Hipsters of Cherrywood (party review)

America, I will officially be 35 years old on July 10th, 2010.  For this birthday celebration, I'll be performing at the Paper Machete with the incomprable Anderson Lawfer in the afternoon, and then I'll run up to the Raven theater to put my spin on Neil Simon's perrenial classic about alien roommates who impregnate a robot called "The Odd Couple" and then I'll have a mint julep with my wonderful friends from the Knights of Columbus and hopefully be in bed by 11 because I have to get to Lowe's early on Sunday because the goddamned toilet's acting up again and somebody's gotta fix the thing and there's no way I'm taking a day off work to wait for a plumber to charge me a hundo for a 30 cent washer.

The hipsters in Cherrywood could barely read the above sentence.

Full disclosure...I haven't seen the show yet.  I can't wait and am extremely excited to have the game changed on me AGAIN.  However, I did crash the Cherrywood party this past Friday night because I wanted to see what all the hubbub was about.  People (mostly me and Anderson) keep flapping their jaws about this thing and I wanted to get down with the kids.

"How many hipsters does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"

"Oh, are those the new light bulbs? I liked the old ones better."

I'm through the fucking looking glass here, people. 

There are theater parties and we all know what they are like.  Standing around, talking about your resume, comparing it to Paul Holmquist's resume, realizing you don't come close to measuring up, getting drunk, turning really passive-agressive and backstabby, and then crying in the cab on the way home.  The Cherrywood party is not like that.  Not even close.

First of all, I'm not even sure if these people are actors.  I mean, I saw a couple I recognized (Rich Cotovsky, Allison Cain, Noah Simon) but the rest were born after Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi rocked my Tempest-playing ass.  Let me explain the area where the party was happening to give you a small idea of what was going on...the Angel Island theater is on the 2nd floor of a block of buildings on the corner of Broadway and West Sheridan.  If you go through a certain door in the back of the theater, you will end up on the roof, where there is a deck and some chairs and a lovely view of the backs of other buildings.  An extremely urban landscape, which these hipsters love.  Man, hipsters love weird shit.  Like Old Style, skinny jeans, dancepunk music, and ironic sunglasses.

What do you think a rumble between New York hipsters and Chicago hipsters would be like?  Would they try to one up each other with not liking things until someone had to admit that they actually kind of enjoyed the work of Zac Efron?

Josh "SHOTS" Vaughn tells Aileen May and Keely Maureen Brennan how cool playing Bags is

I arrived and was immediately greeted by the lovely Aileen May, who is a bit closer to my age...if by closer you mean 10 years younger than me.  Aileen is a smartypants, and really gets the whole thing.  I was pleased to see her, because everyone else seemed to ignore people over 30 except for David Cromer.  Speaking of Cromer, good job on casting some DAMN fine looking boys and girls in your show.  I mean, most of them probably can't talk (except Jenn Santanello...she can talk), but holy lord the abs and breasts were spectacular even in the moonlight and Miller Lite billboard glow.

There was a lot of talking going on.  And a LOT of dancing.  According to my sources (thanks Allison Cain!) these hipsters dance.  All night long.  They seriously won't stop and it gets extremely SEXY on the dance floor.  And they all try to jump into each others iPhone pics with their shirts off.  You know what kills a dance party cold?  Me, with my shirt off, demanding to hear Sniff 'n The Tears "Driver's Seat."  I thought they'd ironically like it.  What do I know?

Pretty much everyone in Cherrywood

INCIDENT ALERT:  Manny Tamayo found a cold 40 of Budweiser.  He told us all to drink it.  Being the Factory members we are, we all took a few chugs and returned it to where it was.  Manny then left.  Not 10 minutes later a tall black hipster named Brandon came over and asked if we were "the motherfuckers who drank his beer."  Oh Brandon...of course we did.  We're the Factory...leaving cold beer near us is like leaving gazelle carcasses near a pride of lions.  Brandon was talking in a voice that I'm sure in his brain sounded like Mr. T, but to us sounded like J.J. from Good Times...an analogy lost on absolutely everyone except Noah Simon.  Brandon was trying to be really intimidating, guys!  I'm sorry we drank some of your 2 dollar beer, Brandon...but maybe you shouldn't leave cheap cold delicious Budweiser laying around a party full of drunk strangers.  I've stolen worse beer from members of my family that I actually like.  But then again, maybe I shouldn't have let a Mexican force me to steal beer from a black guy.  My bad, Brandon.  That's what a Cherrywood party does to people.

Final thoughts...when I was 20 years old, if I had been involved with a huge show like Cherrywood, I would have been front lines on this party scene.  It was ridiculous, outrageous, boring, and fun...just like Cherrywood the show, I imagine.  These hipsters are having a great time being sexy and kickass.  I'm kind of jealous.  But, not jealous enough to relive my 20s.  Have fun with all that, you hipsters of Illinois, you princes of Lake Michigan.  Good night...and get some damn sleep, you all look EXHAUSTED.

Cherrywood Party:
Over 35: B-
Under 29: A+, and hey you look awesome in that dress, do you want to go listen to this new Wolf Parade album I just picked up?  I live like 2 seconds from here.  Awesome.

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer