This year, Father's Day came on a weeknight

Let it never be said that The Holmes fails to find enjoyment in such good wholesome activities as running through a water sprinkler, scaling monkey bars, repeatedly pushing toy trucks down stairs, or any other such inner-child-embracing-hey-what-a-good-dad tomfoolery. I can run with the toddlers with the best of 'em, and I'll fight any man who says otherwise*.

But here lately, I've been craving some o'that non-wholesome explicitly-adult no-kids-allowed kind of fun. And thankfully, an opportunity for just that brand of leisure time came in the form of news from my friend Shayne aka Hip-Hop Show buddy, so called because he's, ya know, the buddy with whom I go to hip-hop shows. Or used to, anyway. It had been a while since I'd made my way to a show of any genre, so long in fact that when somebody asked me the other day who I saw last, I had to think for a few minutes, and I'm still not sure I gave 'em the right answer.

But then last week, the news came something like this:

Damn, a concert on a school night. A Monday, no less. That could make for a rather sleepy Tuesday. But as a very wise motherfucker once said, sometimes you gotta suffer for your fun.

The Ash must've sensed I was in need of a night out, because as soon as I told her about it, she blurted "You should go! Yes! GO! I'll watch the midgets!"

It felt damn good to get out and get a bit loose. Aceyalone was the main attraction for me. He's been a favorite of mine since college when I discovered his "Book of Human Language" album, a collection of tracks that opened my ears to just how amazing hip-hop could really be. And while I hadn't listened to much Dilated Peoples before, I'm definitely a fan now. And you know, you can call me immature, but I get a real kick out of joining in the kind of profanity-laden call-and-response routines that you can only find at concerts like this. Of course when I was younger and first started going to shows, I was much too earnest for any of that silliness:

Could it be that as I've gotten older, I've gotten better at having fun? Or that perhaps I've become a bigger dork? Or do the two go hand in hand?

By the time we left, Shayne and I were both a little hoarse and we smelled like, well, like a hip-hop show. Define that as you will. Downtown was oddly crowded for a Monday night, but we found the car no problem thanks to Shayne being all go-go-gadget foresight and typing our parking spot into his Bwackbewwy.

I only got a few hours of sleep, but I felt great this morning. Even as I type this, I have a pleasantly loose feeling in my normally tight shoulders. I guess a little hip-hop was just what I needed to knock my shit back into alignment

*Metaphorically speaking, of course.