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Sir Mix-a-Lot Smiled Upon The Asses at McKinney Avenue Tavern

Sir Mix-A-Lot McKinney Avenue Tavern, Dallas Monday, May 5, 2014 This isn't your normal concert crowd. Everyone's here at McKinney Avenue Tavern for the same thing: the old-school shit. Nay, the old-school booty shit: They want to hear Sir Mix-a-Lot sing about butts that are big. Immediately. It's Cinco-de-Goddamn-Mayo, after...
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Sir Mix-A-Lot McKinney Avenue Tavern, Dallas Monday, May 5, 2014

This isn't your normal concert crowd. Everyone's here at McKinney Avenue Tavern for the same thing: the old-school shit. Nay, the old-school booty shit: They want to hear Sir Mix-a-Lot sing about butts that are big. Immediately. It's Cinco-de-Goddamn-Mayo, after all.

But we all know that won't happen immediately. For the crowd will not be ready to properly wail to "Baby Got Back" right off the bat. They need prepping. They need hyping. They need more beer, calcium supplements and the proper stretching exercises before they'll be ready to do this.

And furthermore, where in the world would we go from there? There's no following "Baby Got Back." Just ask the Mack Daddy himself.

Sir Mix-a-Lot is supposed to perform at McKinney's Cinco de Mix-O party at 8 p.m. It's 7:58 p.m. and there are 50 people in the house. Sombrero count: two. Reserved tables sit empty. A DJ attempts to hype up the Monday night crowd by spinning Outkast's "Hey Ya." And it appears to be working, as four lacrosse moms are already drunk enough to be yelling the lyrics, "Don't wanto meetchor daddy! Just wantchoo in my Caddy! I'm. I'm. I'm. Just being honest."

Obviously, next up is Pharrell's "Happy." Crowd scream sings all lyrics perfectly. DJ is killing it.

I ask my cocktail waitress which beers are on tap tonight. "Are you Miller Lite drinkers?" she asks. Sure. "Then, you absolutely have to try the Miller Lite draft. It's sooooo delicious. I swear." She just did the hard sell on Miller Lite draft like it was an ungettable secret IPA. Of course, I go with "so delicious." You can't deny that sell.

She delivers the Miller Lite draft. Moments later, she checks in. "How are you enjoying that Miller Lite draft? Delicious, right?" It's a bag of fucking amazing is what this is, Sweetheart.

A young train conductor (who apparently keeps his train conductor hat on inside at night because he's that dedicated to his craft) creepily eyeballs two college girls as they scream "YOU SO FINE YOU BLOW MAH MINHAYMICKEY! HEY MICKEY!" My guess is that the DJ is playing his Under Thirty Afternoon Wedding Set. And he's spot on with that shit and this crowd.

By 8:25 p.m., the bar is beginning to fill up. Patio-squatters have moved inside for front row access to Mr. Sir Mix-a-Lot. Everyone is ready: iPhones are charged at 100 percent, hashtags have been hashtagged, and DJ Kool's "Let Me Clear My Throat" is blaring so you know it's almost time.

It's 8:50 p.m. So, clearly the DJ plays V.I.C.'s "The Wobble." Thirty ladies immediately flock to the dance floor like it's covered in Ryan Gosling. That song is a chick magnet. (Personally, I advise against wobbling because dance songs that tell you what to do are too fucking bossy. "I WILL NOT TO THE LEFT, TO THE LEFT, 69 BOYZ." And yes, the Cupid Shuffle can suck all the dicks, too.)

And with that, Sir Mix-a-Lot's crew takes the stage. A regular mix-a-lot requires one hype man. A Sir Mix-a-Lot requires one hype man, a DJ and an additional jumpy-aroundy-arms-waving-around guy in a Spike Lee hat. (Ed. -- Does that make two hype men then? Let us not digress, though.)

The bar is now packed. And Sir Mix-a-Lot does not disappoint his fans. He sings about his hooptie, he sings about his posse on Broadway, he sings a Dallas-ified version of "Jump On It" ("Cowboys! Jump own it!"). He then says, "You know how I've been making my money these days? Royalties. From the Pussycat Dolls." And he sings his 1988 song, "Swass," from the album of the same name. "Don't you wish your boyfriend was swass, like me?"

(So when you heard the lyrical genius in "Don't Cha," and you were like, "There's no way those bitches came up with that hook on their own," you were right.)

Finally, he sings "Baby Got Back." All the white girls in ponchos: to the stage. Everyone's collective shits are lost. The gray-haired dad in the golf shirt who was dad-jamming to the DJ playing "Word Up" at 7:30 p.m. is now screaming his sweaty face off trying to touch Sir Mix-a-Lot's hat from the front row. iPhones are recording video so that everyone can relive this ass-centric moment in time over and over again forever. So much screaming is occurring. And Mr. Sir Mix-a-Lot and his hype crew can be seen smiling from butt to butt.

On this Cinco of Mayo, all the Sir Mix-A-Lot fans got what they wanted. Happy sort-of-holiday, everyone.

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