Red Hot Chili Peppers concert. Which I was at and you weren't. Hardy har fucking har.
Firstly, I'm almost certain that damn near nobody saw the opening group, the Mars Volta, as we were treated to a lengthy wait outside in the elements whilst the Saddledome's (or whatever the fuck it's currently called: curse you, corporate sponsorship! what? shit certainly ain't dropping ticket prices any) crack security staff patted down everyfucking body. Good Times. Although, I think the guy what felt me up was kinda sweet on me, so I was able to smuggle in my works; thereby enabling me to shoot up during the concert. Again, what? It's a concert. You're SUPPOSED to get high. Weed is for selling or using to pull chicks. Real men do Heroin.
Actually, my boy Jay and I got into the show, after dealing with the teeming masses of humanity, in time to hear about the last 20 minutes of the Mars Volta's set. Rather than attempt to navigate finding our assigned (and sadly, not very good, sitting next to groups of women-wise; whenever I go to shows by myself (why bring sand to the beach?), I always seem to end up beside at least 1 2-set of liquored-up young impressionables) seats, we found us a relatively accessible merchandise booth (I bought me a fairly Cool shirt), conveniently located immediately adjacent to a Tim Horton's; whereby we purchased some coffee and doughnuts (what? it was cold outside, both of us were a smidge under the weather; he'd been in bed, sick, all day...and, yes, we're getting old) and then set up at a table near our section. I really need to study his Game a little bit more, even if he's out of practice from being in a relationship for so long. We were approached by a cute young usherette, who was staring out the window at the STILL lengthy lineup to enter the venue. My first instinct was cocky/funny: Is that, like, the lineup for the bathroom? My boy was just a smidge more practical-like, showing her his ticket and inquiring as to whether or not we were in the right section. We were. Yay, us! Anyway, I atoned when she came back about 10 minutes later, saying that I knew she would. This made her smile. Some days, that's about all I've the energy for; making strange womenfolks smile. Besides, I'm still a recovering AFC. One step (or day) at a time.
Finally, the openers closed up and the excitement built. The Peppers were about to take the stage. The scent of cheap weed was redolent in the air, like burning leaves on a chilly autumn Sunday afternoon. Unbelievable, n'est pas? I fucking TOLD y'all I'm working on my storytelling.
Okay, let's see: The Red Hot Chili Peppers rock rock rocked rocked the house, y'all. Nope, I'm still not overly familiar with their later material, I'm ALL about Blood Sugar Sex Magic; from which the band only played Give It Away. I was disappointed that they didn't fire up some Higher Ground quality, but they DID do a few bars of London Calling by the Clash; a rare and unexpected treat. The video screen was kickass, projecting all kinds of trippy shit and, also, allowing those of us whose seats weren't quite so exceptional to better see the band. John Frusciante's version of Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow was pretty Cool, even if a sizable portion of the yokels did the lighter and camera phone bit in response. Fucking yokels. Anyway, the tunage was funky, the band put in a quality effort and, even though it wasn't the best show I've ever seen (Motley Crue's Dr. Feelgood tour in 1990: 3 encores, they kept on playing even after the houselights came up; Tommy Lee threw out an entire forest of drumsticks to the crowd; Tesla's opening show was kickass, also), I'd go and see them again.
And now, the REAL reason why I left my house, the shapely young adorables: Dude, it was like a total candystore up in there. And yet, somehow, we managed to avoid jail time. Although good ol' Carl likely would've went bail moneys for us. Okay, out of all the hot snatch on the hoof of various ages and shapes that we came across, my favorites were:
- the shapely blonde about our age with the cute little tattoo, that I couldn't quite make out, on her left shoulder, seated a few rows in front of us; even if she brought her cockblock-type friends with her; Jay believed she was a little unsure of herself, body language-wise, but I really wasn't paying enough attention, what with being all calm, sedate and serene guy, mostly I just noticed she couldn't dance for shit and moved on; I DID, however, let her in front of me during the mad rush to exit the building apres the show as that's simply how I roll...she repaid me by making the occasional sudden stop during which I accidentally found myself pressed up against her tight little frame
- the blonde with the big rack in the row in front of us, about 5 seats over; after she took off her sweater (like I said, quite cold outside), smoked a bowl and got excited about the project, so did we; she, too, couldn't dance for shit, but the enthusiastic way that her tig ol' bitties (do the math, yo) were bobbling around more than made up for her lack of skill and yes, we were treated to the occasional gratuitous cleavage shot as she leaned down and towards us to speak to her friend...
- the cute little brunette with the goggles (which were at first pretty much all there was to her), who initially served mostly to block off our view but ended up being the high point of the entire evening for me; she didn't have a lot to work with, frame-wise (don't get me wrong, it was aight, but not spectacular), but what she had, she REALLY knew how to work...how can I describe this (never been too good with them word things)? she had this fucking phenomenal little head bob going that showed a very good head technique and I simply was unable to look away for most of the night (did I mention there was some sort of concert going on?); sadly, these 2 little honeys left early, before I had the chance to make with the ''Cool goggles, it's too bad you girls are so shy, otherwise y'all might be worth hanging out with'' call
To summarize briefly, yes, it was most definitely a good time had by all. Even if I didn't get to see any unconscious folk getting carried out by the paramedics. Perhaps next time.
And on to other business.
A hearty much obliged to the divine Ms. S. for another unique comment. Stop by any time. Go 'Noles!
I knew my coloring books and crayons would totally pay off in the long run. They make excellent props.
Nope, still ain't heard back from the womenfolks that I showed such deep empathy for: telling them I understood their reluctance to correspond with I (my typing skills landed me an ex-wife and a cyberstalker as well as legions of devoted fans), lest they fall completely in love with me and have their very existences torn asunder.
Go figure. No big, however, as I have a contingency plan for such scenarios. One I'm going to thank for providing me with a pretty surefire (not, however, foolproof) opener to use on other womenfolks. It turns out that women LOVE to have their opinions solicited by men. Who knew? The other is, as always, far away. Which seems to be a prevailing trend in my life. Nope, ain't heard back about that annulment yet, either. But hopes remain high. After all, this is the new, uber, me.
I'm learning so very much from the wise advice and sage counsel of (Saint of the Day:) Wayne 'Juggler' Elise. Next, I work on the applying shit portion of the program.
My new attitude towards the HB's is: okay, you hit the genetic lottery, looks-wise, but what do YOU have to offer ME?
To this end, I'm back on the dating sites. Just to practice. And for once, I've actually adopted a proactive stance and approached some of the womenfolks therein. To mixed results.
- the low Self Esteem chick with the beautiful smile (this was my approach, as negging her would've been counterproductive) who has already told me much about her and given me her real e-mail address (like David DeAngelo always says: e-mail over digits), sans me asking for it; this was my fallback and she replied to me within about 20 minutes
- the fairly attractive woman with the kickass profile which expressed her (likely completely fabricated) goofy side to whom I said kickass profile, but are you all talk or are you someone Cool enough to fake heartfelt reunions in airports with; haven't heard back from her...her loss
- the fine 23 year old (I'm 34) whose profile had some very similar points to mine own; fuck yeah, I called her on it, plagiarism (other than mine own, naturellement) is so not Cool; then I said that the least she could do was offer me her opinion on that whole ugly walking the nice lady home and not trying anything episode (feel free to use it if you'd like; e-mail me for the full story); she has since tried to give me attitude, to which I replied how cute it is when a woman tries to give me attitude, it always makes me giggle; next I'll mention what a great friend I think she'll make...although I didn't get the desired results the last time I used the LJBF first strike, so we'll see how things play out
And no, I never talk about success and all that sort of thing. Discretion fucking rocks. I'm all about the Zen of the process itself.
All right, time for breakfast before the Cleveland Browns/Cincinnati Bengals game later on today. Enjoy your Sunday, y'all. I know that I shall. I've been awake about an hour and a half and in, like, 4 hours, I'll be going back to Sleepytime. Sometimes it's good to be me.