The only thing that title has to do with this post is that I thought my friend was touching me in odd places at a concert on Thursday but it turned out to be something someone else was holding and to try to deflect my overreaction I told my friend that the army gave her a third arm when she signed up. Why she was feeling me up with it, I don’t know.

So, I have this odd contradiction right now where enough has happened recently that I could squeeze a couple posts out of it but the idea of writing it all down and sorting it out seems to intimidating. So instead I slept off the concert and lounged around my house sticking rhinestones on things. Go me.

So I went to a concert on Thursday. If you haven’t figured out this by now, you’re fired. No fired. Go.

Okay come back. But pay attention.

So the line-up was Foxy Shazam, Patrick Stump and Panic! At the Disco.  I knew what to expect from Panic (a lot of me drooling over the lead singer and getting humped by thirteen year olds while doing that). I had an idea of what Patrick was up to (I didn’t really care either, I adore him). Foxy Shazam on the other hand…

The only way I know how to describe this is by a note I made on my phone while watching them: “Watching Foxy Shazam onstage makes you feel like there might be an orgy later”

No really. Goofy antics aside (the somersaults and the flapping his arms like wings while wearing gloves to assist in that illusion were hysterical, I’ve never laughed that hard at something not intending to be hilarious) I honestly felt like the whole night might turn into one giant orgy by the way that singer was prancing up and down the stage. For fuck’s sake, he HUMPED the guitarist’s head (after jumping on his shoulders…he didn’t force him to the ground and then grind him into the floor…but I wouldn’t put it past him).

At one point he ate four cigarette butts. He smoked the four cigarettes first (at the same time which is possibly the dumbest thing to do next to letting your homicidal neighbour care for your kids…unless he’s not charging, then it’s just a deal and you should probably buy him dinner). I almost missed this though because I was watching the brass player’s strangely hypnotic awkward dancing and the keyboardist attempting to fan kick his keyboard off its stand while trying to take over the world with his creepy ass beard. He was like that one side-show performer that you don’t want to take your eyes off of because you’re afraid of what he’ll do to you when you’re not looking. CREEPY.

My favourite bit – and this wasn’t how he closed the show though I’m not sure I wanted to watch anything after that – was when he walked over, unplugged the brass player’s mike from its speaker and announced that he was going to plug it into his butthole and let the brass player use HIM as a microphone…cause he conducts enough energy for that sort of thing…I wasn’t shocked by that so much as the brass player playing along and then USING the plug for his mike that was just up his leader singer’s ASS. And yes I hear people out there cursing my young naiveté and pointing out that much worse used to happen on stage but LOOK, the last time I saw the headliners in concert the only thing that was really noteworthyly weird about the opening act was that the lead singer was barefoot the whole time (I think he was trying to collect blood transmitted viruses from all 50 states…) so I wasn’t really expecting this…a little bit of GUY LOVE but no butt plug microphones…

I was just surprised is all…stop judging…

-Renee

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