all the way live...
to all my faithful readers out there, sorry for the delay. i've been involved in an intense ordeal with local law enforcement and their k-9 companion. i will get to that later...much later, preferably. let me just say a drop of alcohol is too much and a bathtub full isn't enough...
i've received a great deal of new music and have neither the time nor the desire to listen to it. i just want more. so while i wade through and evaluate the new platters, allow me to sidestep and regale you with an account of a real live rock show.
the kids are raging for modest mouse these days. i know they've been around for a while and i'm not sure why the sudden interest. couldn't be the fucking name, that's for sure. but in the interest of professionalism, i decided to see what all the fuss was about. that, and the fact it was a tuesday.
a fellow "music fan" [read: degenerate looking to prey upon female college freshmen] assured me of the "rawk," and thusly, move-ed me to attend. after arriving early and realizing that the bar was shuttered, he came through with 10 warm beers stashed strategically throughout his car. let's call him al, as in al coholic. get it. say it out loud. seriously al coholic. see! al-coholic. like, that's his name.
i fuckin love that dude.
the show was housed in an old ice rink, which surprisingly turned out to be prime real estate for a musical happening. couple it with 2 for $5 16.oz beers, and i am damm sure it would be a fine place to entertain the pope. many, many people enjoyed the beer...so much so in fact the line stretched from blue-line to blue-line. the wait was unbearable, which is why we continued to cut in line until we were verbally berated and beaten back with pepper spray. yeah, it was right around this time that the wait became unbelievably unbearable. understandably, the unbelievably unbearable line undulated under a unicorn...
anyway, i'm waiting in line and this fat chick turns around and grabs al coholic's [ha!] balls. true story. so he runs away and leaves me with that fat cow, slobbering for man meat. and i can't leave the line...there's 200 hundred fucking people behind me waiting to get a beer. and i can't cut in line again. so i waited like a soldier, all the while starring down the hun in front of me. if she even thought about touching me, i swear to fucking god, i was gonna punch her in the belly. i can't believe al left me standing there literally surrounded by the bitch-version of king kong bundy. she had this shock of orange in the front of her hair, and of course i had to ask her about it. and she's all like "oh my god, i was eating carrot cake before i came here. did i get some in my hair?" some? jesus christ, i was about to stick a candle in it and sing happy birthday. yeah, that bastard left me standing there with her.
i fuckin' hate that dude.
so i kept drinking and waiting for the band to come on. they were delayed for one reason or another - late flight, equipment missing, blown o-ring...some such shit. so around, i don't know, midnight, i realize i needn't fight the crowd to use the lavatory. the management had opened the side doors to allow the cool august air to filter in, albeit with the help of those hurricane fans. i squeezed out and stumbled across a gravel path to a shed far away from the flood lights to piss in semi-private. about five seconds in, i am acutely aware of an awful smell and some rustling on the other side of the shed. i practically piss all over myself. i thought it was some animal, a raccoon who just ate the garbage or something, i don't know. i didn't want rabies on my dick, you understand, but i had to at least see what it was.
i had never seen ass-banging up close and personal, and it was much more horrible than i imagined [frequently, i might add]
al coholic - you remember him - was banging that fat orange-haired bitch who grabbed his balls. right there, drivin' the old meat rocket right down the hershey highway. packin'-fudge. pluggin' the buthole. trainin' the dolphin to dive for chocolate [i have no idea what that means]. at least i guess he was, it smelled so awful, i just assumed it had to be ass juice. i mean, could that have been...no. no way. impossible. and if you think they were surprised then, you should have seen the looks on their faces when i threw-up.
he agreed we shouldn't talk about that incident, but i never agreed to a damm thing. watch who you ass bang, you know what i mean? for chrissakes, that was lewd, vile, corrupt...i'm scarred, for sure.
and modest mouse...i wasn't impressed.
i've received a great deal of new music and have neither the time nor the desire to listen to it. i just want more. so while i wade through and evaluate the new platters, allow me to sidestep and regale you with an account of a real live rock show.
the kids are raging for modest mouse these days. i know they've been around for a while and i'm not sure why the sudden interest. couldn't be the fucking name, that's for sure. but in the interest of professionalism, i decided to see what all the fuss was about. that, and the fact it was a tuesday.
a fellow "music fan" [read: degenerate looking to prey upon female college freshmen] assured me of the "rawk," and thusly, move-ed me to attend. after arriving early and realizing that the bar was shuttered, he came through with 10 warm beers stashed strategically throughout his car. let's call him al, as in al coholic. get it. say it out loud. seriously al coholic. see! al-coholic. like, that's his name.
i fuckin love that dude.
the show was housed in an old ice rink, which surprisingly turned out to be prime real estate for a musical happening. couple it with 2 for $5 16.oz beers, and i am damm sure it would be a fine place to entertain the pope. many, many people enjoyed the beer...so much so in fact the line stretched from blue-line to blue-line. the wait was unbearable, which is why we continued to cut in line until we were verbally berated and beaten back with pepper spray. yeah, it was right around this time that the wait became unbelievably unbearable. understandably, the unbelievably unbearable line undulated under a unicorn...
anyway, i'm waiting in line and this fat chick turns around and grabs al coholic's [ha!] balls. true story. so he runs away and leaves me with that fat cow, slobbering for man meat. and i can't leave the line...there's 200 hundred fucking people behind me waiting to get a beer. and i can't cut in line again. so i waited like a soldier, all the while starring down the hun in front of me. if she even thought about touching me, i swear to fucking god, i was gonna punch her in the belly. i can't believe al left me standing there literally surrounded by the bitch-version of king kong bundy. she had this shock of orange in the front of her hair, and of course i had to ask her about it. and she's all like "oh my god, i was eating carrot cake before i came here. did i get some in my hair?" some? jesus christ, i was about to stick a candle in it and sing happy birthday. yeah, that bastard left me standing there with her.
i fuckin' hate that dude.
so i kept drinking and waiting for the band to come on. they were delayed for one reason or another - late flight, equipment missing, blown o-ring...some such shit. so around, i don't know, midnight, i realize i needn't fight the crowd to use the lavatory. the management had opened the side doors to allow the cool august air to filter in, albeit with the help of those hurricane fans. i squeezed out and stumbled across a gravel path to a shed far away from the flood lights to piss in semi-private. about five seconds in, i am acutely aware of an awful smell and some rustling on the other side of the shed. i practically piss all over myself. i thought it was some animal, a raccoon who just ate the garbage or something, i don't know. i didn't want rabies on my dick, you understand, but i had to at least see what it was.
i had never seen ass-banging up close and personal, and it was much more horrible than i imagined [frequently, i might add]
al coholic - you remember him - was banging that fat orange-haired bitch who grabbed his balls. right there, drivin' the old meat rocket right down the hershey highway. packin'-fudge. pluggin' the buthole. trainin' the dolphin to dive for chocolate [i have no idea what that means]. at least i guess he was, it smelled so awful, i just assumed it had to be ass juice. i mean, could that have been...no. no way. impossible. and if you think they were surprised then, you should have seen the looks on their faces when i threw-up.
he agreed we shouldn't talk about that incident, but i never agreed to a damm thing. watch who you ass bang, you know what i mean? for chrissakes, that was lewd, vile, corrupt...i'm scarred, for sure.
and modest mouse...i wasn't impressed.
Johnny St. Clair wuz here at 3:52 PM
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