SUICIDE GIRLS – THE TITACULAR!
NOW! WITH PHOTOS! One of which shows a blogging superstah has some 'splaining tu du!
All pics are safe for work. And fucking terrible; I’m such a bad photographer. No pics from the show, it wasn’t allowed. And I wasn’t gonna get kicked out so you could get your jollies.
I went to the Polyesther instore to get my book and DVD signed. On the tram, I saw…
A sign advertising puppets for 90% off! BARgain!
Anyway, I got to Polyesther around 45 minutes early. I was bored and wanted to buy the whole shop. So many cool things. Gah, I hate being poor.
So it was basically me and some mouth-breathing he-perves, but then the normal people started trickling in. Then this guy arrived. (He also has a review of the night. Go see).
I got my stuff signed, and we got some photos with the girls. All the photos with me are terrible (over the last three months, I’ve had this retarded fase in pictures for some reason) and I’m sending the 2.0 ones to him, to post at his discretion.
Anyway, the girls were pretty jetlagged I think; they weren’t really talking to the crowd or anything.
We trammed it to the city, where we thought of bands for our record label and Adam made me laugh so hard I had to concentrate to make sure my drag queen eye shadow didn’t run. There were two dredlock’d lesbians making out behind him, but, being the shitful photographer I am, I managed to fuck up EVERY picture of him in front of him with his thumbs up in a ‘Hey to all the dudes back HOME!’/tv weak-esque pose. I’m so, so sad about that.
Also, we were looking at the book, and found THIS
So we met up with Boyfriend and Dancey, (this guy with wanker tendencies who thinks Adam’s name is Pierre) and had dinner at the most mockable place we could find, ie, hard rock café.
Then Dancey made us go to fucking PONY for drinks (wanker tendencies) but fortunately, being early, the Haircut Quotient (HQ) was low.
2.0 pwns galaga.
I proceeded to get a little drunk. We walked to the HiFi, freezing our arses off. I was so very excited. We got there at 9.15, 45 minutes before their scheduled start, secured a good front position, and waited.
Then the Ground Components came on, and sucked so hard it wasn’t funny. They can’t even fucking play their instruments, it was woeful.
Then Dr Suave came on, with a fucking wrestler’s mask, and he ‘got out’ of a strightjacket.
Then the suicide girls were, like, nearly half an hour late coming on. I was tired, hot, sore, sobering up, getting smoke in my eyes, and cranky.
Despite the excitement being surgically removed by the Ground Components and Dr Suave, it was awesome. Basically, the gist was:
- girl/girls come out in cool, sexy costume
- take costume off to reveal tits and tiny undies
- dance around. Next act.
And you know what? That’s all they needed. I was thinking, ‘if I was at, say, the Palais, sitting down in my own personal space, I could watch this literally all day for a month’.
I could’ve done without the spitting. See, they tend to spit stuff, or pour stuff into the audience. Beer, champagne, carrot, silly string, and whipped cream. Being three/four rows from the front, it wasn’t pretty. I hid behind a big tall wide guy for most of it, so that was ok. But note to Lindsay and others: If you don’t want to get stuff all over yourself, go at least ten rows back. Champagne in one’s eye stings.
I thought I’d be all feral and screamy, but it seems (and I noticed this that time at Bar 20) tits have, like, a calming affect on me. So I was just kinda standing there, cuddled up next to/in front of Boyfriend, just enjoying it, clapping where appropriate.
The girls were HOT, and all but two had amazing boobs. (One had gross fake ones, the other… none. But she was uberpretty so it was ok). As a whole, they weren’t as pierced or tattooed as you’d expect, but still hot. And not as scrawny as some of them. But yeah. Such nice boobs. Pity I was too tired to whack off when I got home.
Verdict: it was fucking awesome. Why the fuck didn’t you go?
1 hour ago