So last week, I hauled myself to see The Scissor Sisters, on a school night of all things.
I had free tickets from John, but hadn't planned to go, since, truth be told, I'm not much of a fan. Yes, I know. My head on a gay stake, but whatever. I mean I like what I've heard by them all right, but I've just never been all that fanatical about them, you know? (sorry)
But I had a few friends going, and well, the tickets were free, right?
Well, let me tell you, every gay and every big girl within a 100 mile radius was there. It was rather frightening. There were even some straights.
One friend of mine had brought with her two friends, both high out of their minds. The straight one was dry humping the stair rail and the gay one (from the Army) was tongue kissing his glass. They periodically wandered off from Mommy, who was not having fun, but I suggested that she make them hold hands, like toddlers. They did. It was very sweet, until the coked up gay army guy stumbled off to get another drink. He came back empty handed since they refused to serve him. That was part of the pre-concert floor show.
The music was good, and Jake and Ana Matronic were really enthusiastic. I really loved her. They both have connections with N.O., it seems...which was rather touching. Ana's mother is from here, so she announced...and was in the audience. Even though Jake Shears was as scantily dressed as a stripper, he still couldn't manage to generate must interest in me. I don't know what it is. He's really cute, and has a great body, but the two other guys were cuter, in my opinion. Still he was a great performer. No matter how many gyrations of his leather jockstrap Mr. Shears performed, I found my attention diverted to this boy (Del Marquis), who was just cute as a button, and ok, reminds me of my first boyfriend.
Anyway, because of the entertainment, I stayed as long as I could, but midconcert, I had to make my excuses. I had to get home to bed. I'm such an old now. It's sad. Thank goodness one of those big girls helped push the crowds for me, or I'd have never been able to get home.
I exitted to find the ticket girl preoccupied with a group of well dressed 60 year old German tourists who wanted to get in and could not understand that they couldn't. "What part of, 'you need a ticket' and they sold out' don't they understand????" She asked me frustratedly as she validated my parking. They sullenly walked out to the street mumbling obscenities in German.
I went to work the next early morning, still not able to hear, still smelling the pot from someone in front of me in my hair, feeling hung over on diet coke. I think I'm still recovering from the whole night, actually.
Good god, I'm a coot.