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Who needs love when there's Southern Comfort?
On the plus side, going to the Amanda Palmer concert was a very good thing indeed.
I was pleased to find that I was only one of three or four people to actually be wearing bowler derbies there, and the others were in more of a full costume, rather than rocking it for the sheer sake of bowlery excellence.
While I was very reluctant to go alone, I've discovered in recent months that when you're alone it's so much easier to meet people. Soon, I'd made the acquaintance of a dozen people clustered with me in the first "row" by the stage. Getting as close to the stage as possible is one good way to avoid the dual concert plagues of claustrophobia and tall people.
What made this concert especially... uh, special... was how this was the first time I'd ever felt like the opening acts were as integral to the experience as the headliner. Each of the three progressively whipped up the crowd, and were all awesome. Even before Amanda came out, I felt like I was truly getting my ticket's worth, a full meal of music. Even the emcee (one of Amanda's Danger Ensemble) was delightful, as was the surprise audio cameo by Neil Gaiman. A pinch of Neil makes everything better. He's like nutmeg.
And then, of course, there's Amanda herself. While I was and still am put-off by some of her more hardcore fans (usually abrasive teenage girls with yarn in their hair who probably self-loathingly frequent Hot Topic), there really is no denying her sheer stage charisma and ability to put on a show. And dear lord, is she crazy sexy in performance.
So of course, it's in a state of having my ass totally kicked and wiped out by that entire experience and just generally zonked from it being 1:30am that I meet her. I've heard it said that she's got an amazing down-to-earth rapport with her fans, and they're not kidding: she made me feel like me just being there, asking for her autograph and saying totally generic, brain-fried, yet sincere compliments of her show was the utter highlight of her day, giving me and other fans a warm hug and a dizzyingly lovely little kiss on the lips.
Really, it's just what I needed after pulling another "Emm Gryner" experience and turning into a babbling idiot when we talked.
AMANDA: (Noticing my "Harvey Dent for Gotham City" sticker) Awesome!
THE HEFNER'S BRAIN: She noticed! You should say that thing you were planning to say the next time someone remarked on the sticker. Turn on the geek charm and say, "Hey, I still believe in him! Unlike most politicians, at least we can trust him half the time! Hurr hurr hurr!" Wait, that's lame. You were supposed to work on that!
THE HEFNER: Yeah, it... it... it... it... it... yeah.
THE HEFNER'S BRAIN: *slow clap*
Indeed, perhaps a testament to Amanda Palmer that her utter delightfulness can diffuse even Hefnerian situations. Truly, she is one of those artists you simply have to see live to really "get," and I'm super-glad that I bit the bullet and went alone. Especially considering that I wasn't alone anymore when I left.
So, yeah. A very good thing indeed.
I was pleased to find that I was only one of three or four people to actually be wearing bowler derbies there, and the others were in more of a full costume, rather than rocking it for the sheer sake of bowlery excellence.
While I was very reluctant to go alone, I've discovered in recent months that when you're alone it's so much easier to meet people. Soon, I'd made the acquaintance of a dozen people clustered with me in the first "row" by the stage. Getting as close to the stage as possible is one good way to avoid the dual concert plagues of claustrophobia and tall people.
What made this concert especially... uh, special... was how this was the first time I'd ever felt like the opening acts were as integral to the experience as the headliner. Each of the three progressively whipped up the crowd, and were all awesome. Even before Amanda came out, I felt like I was truly getting my ticket's worth, a full meal of music. Even the emcee (one of Amanda's Danger Ensemble) was delightful, as was the surprise audio cameo by Neil Gaiman. A pinch of Neil makes everything better. He's like nutmeg.
And then, of course, there's Amanda herself. While I was and still am put-off by some of her more hardcore fans (usually abrasive teenage girls with yarn in their hair who probably self-loathingly frequent Hot Topic), there really is no denying her sheer stage charisma and ability to put on a show. And dear lord, is she crazy sexy in performance.
So of course, it's in a state of having my ass totally kicked and wiped out by that entire experience and just generally zonked from it being 1:30am that I meet her. I've heard it said that she's got an amazing down-to-earth rapport with her fans, and they're not kidding: she made me feel like me just being there, asking for her autograph and saying totally generic, brain-fried, yet sincere compliments of her show was the utter highlight of her day, giving me and other fans a warm hug and a dizzyingly lovely little kiss on the lips.
Really, it's just what I needed after pulling another "Emm Gryner" experience and turning into a babbling idiot when we talked.
AMANDA: (Noticing my "Harvey Dent for Gotham City" sticker) Awesome!
THE HEFNER'S BRAIN: She noticed! You should say that thing you were planning to say the next time someone remarked on the sticker. Turn on the geek charm and say, "Hey, I still believe in him! Unlike most politicians, at least we can trust him half the time! Hurr hurr hurr!" Wait, that's lame. You were supposed to work on that!
THE HEFNER: Yeah, it... it... it... it... it... yeah.
THE HEFNER'S BRAIN: *slow clap*
Indeed, perhaps a testament to Amanda Palmer that her utter delightfulness can diffuse even Hefnerian situations. Truly, she is one of those artists you simply have to see live to really "get," and I'm super-glad that I bit the bullet and went alone. Especially considering that I wasn't alone anymore when I left.
So, yeah. A very good thing indeed.
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I can talk to celebrities fine, it's real-life boys that I have problems with. A couple of weeks there was a cute dude in my store, and I don't know-- got lost in his eyes or something, so I double-charged him on his credit card, and had to void the second transaction, and it was on a Wednesday and now everyone thinks I'm incompetent.
I can dig it.
Glad you went and had a good time.
Even more glad you, once again, gave us a little glimpse inside your head at one of those key moments. (And it rings more than a little close to home, here... happens to me all the time.) :)
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Or maybe some dude?
Spill, monkey-boy.
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Re: I can dig it.
And thanks, man! :)
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I have that problem with everybody, but at least with real life girls, there's the good chance that you'll never see them again. So if you mess up, it won't be like you'll be forever reminded of your asshattery whenever you revisit said person's music or comics or whathaveyou.
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http://thatguywiththeglasses.com/videolinks/thatguywiththeglasses/sketches/2950-the-joker-practicing-the-scar-story
You just have to x out the annoying ads in the ad's upper right hand corner every once in a while.
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Did you?
Re: Did you?
Re: Did you?
I need more males in my life off whom to bounce these intimate biological questions.
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Is this a friends thing or a hunka-chunka thing?
Re: Did you?
Re: Did you?
I had a dream once that I was a guy who jizzed in my pants. And then I asked my boyfriend at the time if it was like the way it happened in my dream, and he was like, "HA HA HA. Oooh no, nothing like that. No no, nothing like that. Sounds like a hot dream, though."
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Re: Did you?
How'd it happen in your dream?
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Woot!
Are we wooting? Is there wootage? I do so want there to be wooting.
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Dude, even I wouldn't describe shadowcaptain that way.