now let's see...where did we leave off?...oh yes...
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fer those cold dark nites nites ya just don't wanna remember the reason...or their name!
now...the excruciate'n convulsion of "do you really wanna hurt me?"
we touched down...but not
in the land of the delta blues...
well cuz i flew the chicken coop airlines Spirit instead...say what you will about their cramped quarters...pain-in-the-A-double-snakes pack'n policies...lack of any personality on board or zero complimentary mile high anal exams...
if they can get me to my destination in 30 minutes or less...it's worth all the annoy'n hassles...i'm just say'n!
so there i was in the terminal station at O'Hare once again...
contemplate'n whether or not i should find a free ride...
hmmm options!...after carefully explorin' the possibilities of both...i decided to go with the less invasive std option and
once into the city and lactate'n locate'n my friends no tell motel...
well...cuz really ...there's no tell'n what ya were come'n into...(OK EWWW!)
i removed my manolo's...give'n my back a full range of motion as directed by my chiropractic provider...stepped into a sea of rose buds and raspberry scented bubbles...with cool cucumber slices...in my cocktail...blocked out any and all bad experiences prior and melted away fer a few moments...that is until i heard a knock on the door "hey can ya hand me my hemmroidal cream? i got a client come'n in a couple of minutes!"
charm'n i'm sure!
mother nature was no help in make'n me feel complete either...since she was a bit under the weather...but whether rain or shine...i was gonna have a good time...so i slipped into my fav-o-rit hysterectomy jeans...tucked in my tightest tee...threw on my very lil red ride'n hooker hoodie and off i went to
scamper'n around like a two lipped trollop...to hookerville boystown!
my first stop was gonna be my usual fav-o-rit destination of all...
but it was no where to be seen...then i thought...oh wait...
did it have anything to do with me sell'n my pseudo space case friend into slutville with the mgr last time i visited just so i could get a free cd?...ummm perhaps...but hopefully the blowjob in the basement was worth it...cuz the cd mix definitely was not!
as i aimlessly meandered around like a lobotomized lollipop in boystown...
fer a few hours...i'd lost my sense of direction and got lost in the concrete jungles of hookerville...so i logged into my GPS system and hop scotched my way back to my dignity friends place
after a few restless winks...it was T-I-M-E!
though i had recently celebrated my 13th anniversary to my 30th barfday...i felt like i was a pre-teen on the verge of a nervous breakdown try'n to find the perfect outfit to christen my presence in front of BOY...and since i couldn't find one outfit to fit my fancy on my entire trek thru not so homoville anymore...my options were limited to my other pair of camouflaged hysterectomy jeans...another barely there tee...but the cherry on top that would make this look pop...was all about...
the hat!
after deal'n with the no tell motel mgr my friend about dropp'n...
my unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist A double snakes off at the front door like one should...but gett'n no where fast...even though i had gone on his pilgrimage to find the perfect swill to fill his barely legal prisoner roommate in hopes of recapture'n yet another youth in his clutches...i just hopped the El train and head'd to the house of blues
once inside...the nerves were sett'n in faster than a priest on a playground
so i asked the gamorrean guard where the closet bathroom was...cuz i hadda reapply my dr. pepper lip smacker...but of course he only spoke in grunt...so i decided to hold it since i noticed outside the venue...the line was form'n and i was NOT not gett'n front row
i was 5th in line so all was good on nervous avenue...and it wouldn't be long before the line was form'n around the block...even though i'm not much of a chitter chatter with strangers...well unless they stop me and i can make a fast 50...i started up a conversation with the 2 obvious non homosexual
pussycats...the mother in last season's Herberger's tracksuit...flew in from florida of course and gushed about how she was in love with Boy since back in the 1980's...
and the daughter in her beige pumps and fake pearls readily admitted she didn't really know much of Boy George...
let alone the global impact of Culture Club...but she was about ready to have a tag team crash course by me and her mother...who hoped she would hear BOY sing fer fav-o-rit hit "TO BE REBORN"
we reminisced about the good ol days when music wasn't corporate and copycatted...then the geek squad behind us joined in and put in their 2 cents worth...which...after about 2 seconds of them consume'n my space...i was just ready to get inside...you know what kinda fans i'm talk'n about...
the kind that sit outside a concert like Tori Amos...wait'n impatiently fer a personal reflective moment and an autograph with Miss Amos...and when she finally emerges from her trailer after eat'n caviar on rice cakes...secretly watch'n the pathetic line of losers grow...she makes her way down the line to you and yer good friend and you think of the perfect greet'n to capture her memory so you can be life long besties in hopes she'll personally call you each time she comes to town on tour...only to be upstaged by the emotional cutter before you who breaks down and weeps about how her music...and her father...touched the very essence of their soul...then you end up change'n yer game plan by the time she reaches you and just feel like make'n the emotional cutter look like a big baby...by shedd'n a lonely tear and muster'n up the courage to say you were once pillaged by a group of blindly muted cripples on a hot summer nite...but decide you can't keep a straight face long enough to pull it off...so you both just hand Tori yer cd and she signs it with a non committal smile...that's the sorta fan i'm talk'n about...and trust me when i say...that is unfortunately a true Tori story
though winter has seemed to finally be over...the crisp Chicago wind was bite'n my ass somethin' awful that nite...and since my blouse was not lined in sheep's wool...i was in no mood to listen to these geeks fucktards any longer...so one of the "fans" broke rank and went inside to see what the hold up was...i of course was look'n around fer a tour bus with the window shades askew...just in case...but the "fan" returned say'n how we could go inside if we purchased $20 worth of shitty house of blues merchandise
ARE YOU FUCK'N KIDD'N ME?
like i'm gonna waste $20 on their shitty merchandise that i would never want to be seen in...just to keep my nipple's from fall'n off...i was on a very unfortunate self imposed budget fer miss'n my flight in the 1st place...so...
i'm gonna use my $20 more wisely and hang out with some good friends inside to warm up
after case'n the joint fer the easiest access to the merch table and the
glory holes restroom...i secured my place in the front row amongst the sea of
stalkers fans...and outside of the occasional sad bachlorette boa...there wasn't really a braided bolero hat in the crowd to be seen...just a gaggle of tacky queens try'n to feel important in the balcony by say'n they were in...
the "private box"
bitch puhleez!...y'all spent yer benjamins on blow and got last minute over priced comps from the scalper on the street...so security threw ya upstairs cuz they know all yer gonna end up doin is shoot'n a magazine of selfies all nite and try'n to record the show to post to yer FB groupies and tell'n them how jealous they are!
and hour later the curtain opened and BOY GEORGE owned the audience
from the start...dressed like a gothic couture krishna in comfortable high tops...BOY open'd the show with his somber smash hit "
KING OF EVERYTHING" off his new album...
''
THIS IS WHAT I DO"
and continued on with covers by Yoko Ono's "
DEATH OF SAMANTHA" and George Harrison's "
ANY ROAD"...though the open'n wasn't yer typical upbeat open'n with these choices...it was HIS choice...and he let the audience know if they came fer an 80's revival...they'd be sadly disappointed...as he was here to showcase his brilliantly written new material instead
he could'a been recite'n Shakespeare fer all i cared...as long as i got to hear him do it live...from the rastafarian sounds of "FEEL THE VIBRATION" to Lou Reed's cover of "SATELLITE OF LOVE"...i was in the presence of perfection...every song was completely spine tingle'n...and he seemed to be glad to be there...that is until BOY had bowed out below the blind'n spotlight and noticed a fan fucktard in the front row film'n the show on her phone...and without skipp'n a beat...he gave the woman exactly what she longed for...to be noticed by her idol..."stop film'n my fuck'n show CUNT!...i'm up here doin a ballud and all you wanna do iz film ma show...fer christ sakes...just enjoy tha show...ya know wha i mean!"
i fer one was absolutely ecstatic BOY called her out on it cuz it was annoy'n the fuck outta me see'n the flash constantly go off outta my peripheral vision...as i'm sure the crowd around her was...she of course was now crushed her idol of 30 some years no doubt...called her a CUNT on stage...instead of call'n her up on stage...and exited stage left with her 3 friends she forced to go to the concert with her cuz she bought their tickets...i of course was still deal'n with the annoy'n shutter bug slut stand'n next to me who was on some sorta photo marathon with her FB post'ns...and seconds away from gett'n punched in the neck herself...
see...thing is people...unless you have a professional camera with a zoom lense...and know about light'n...9 times outta 10...the pix you take at any concert will just end up a bright fuzzy mess that you'll have to explain to those who respond to yer post ask'n what it is...so seriously...put down the fuck'n cells and enjoy the show...cuz we didn't pay to see yer shitty shots blind'n us all nite long
an hour later after the BOY pretty much completed his current catalog...and continued on without hesitation as the crowd erupted hear'n the familiar harmonica notes of "CHURCH OF THE POISON MIND"...followed by a trumpeted reworked version of "DO YOU REALLY WANNA HURT ME"...acoustic cover of Bread's "EVERYTHING I OWN" and of course had the crowd sing'n along to his 80's anthem "KARMA CHAMELEON"...rocked out on a cover of T. Rex's "GET IT ON"...raised the roof with his spiritual hit "BOW DOWN MISTER"...and closed the nite with what i swore BOY had planted a poser in the crowd..sing'n
"TO BE REBORN" just like my floridian friend so desperately wanted to hear
fer a second i thought i would try and hunt down a way backstage...but then i remembered...i hadn't emptied my bladder since i made it to the venue 3 hrs earlier...and i was in no mood to become a member of the incontinence
club...so i decided to find some relief and darted fer the gloryhole instead
once i closed up shop...i was out the door and in line try'n to decided which memory i could afford...with so many choices...i hadda choose wisely...as mr credit card was not very happy with me fer fuck'n up the flight...i felt like i was a contestant on the "wheel of the unfortunate"...and Mr Sajak merch man was not a fan of my indecisions...so i opted fer a couple of bright tee's and out the door i went back to the no tell motel
as i wandered the streets almost all alone...with my purchase's tightly cling'n fer dear life inside of my jacket...i knew i was only 4/5 blocks away from the the station...but somehow i lost my sense of direction...along with the time...since my cell had decided to commit suicide durin' the show...and i could no longer spot the memory crumbs i had dropped down head'n to the show and was left with me and my own defenses to find my own way home...which was not very promise'n...as the clouds above started to cry
eventually i would return back to my temporary residents an hour and a half later...but not before temporarily lose'n my mind doin a 360 back to where i started...the moral of the story...if ya wanna have yer cake at eat it too...check yer itinerary and learn how to use yer damn GPS
now get off my dress!
