Backstage bound!

I was brought up to appreciate a good rock concert. I had a wild older cousin named Lazarus who used to take me to all kinds of shows before he died. He said it was important for my education. We'd go to see the heaviest bands, and scam drugs in the shadiest parking lots. I was young and timid at my first few shows. Then I got the hang of it! Now I thrash out with my fuckin' rash out, and it's just about the best release I've ever known!

I decided it was time to teach my daughter the ways, so I treated us to a recent concert at one of Richmond's hottest venues. It was some sort of indie rock band, which sounds really lame, but at least it's rock. Y'all remember rock? It was that shit we used to get pregnant to before rap showed up and took over as the official soundtrack of teenage sex and not pulling out like a gentleman. But I digress.

Darla wasn't sure how to dress because she didn't know the band either, but I knew what to do. When it comes to concerts you can never go wrong with sleazy high heels and slutty ripped jeans, fishnet accents, and no bra. We got to the show about the time the openers were done, so there was a 20 minute window to meet the band early. I tried to convince Darla to help me blow these two bouncers at the side entrance to get us backstage, but she helpfully pointed out that they were actually just a couple of overweight dudes waiting for a bus.

After getting our tickets at will call, having our purses checked, and swallowing a sleeve of crushed amphetamines in the bathroom, we were just in time to see the headliners. The view from the back was boring, so it was time to enlighten my daughter on another fine point of rock concert theory: Reaching the front row at all costs.

Once you weave through the first few layers of people who seem to need their own personal space, you start to find yourself in a rather impermeable concentration of people. Dudes will widen their stance or stiffen up to block you out if you're all "'scuse me...'scuse me", so forget that noise. Don't say a word until you're ready to make your move. Then punch whichever elbow is attached to their drink hand, and when they turn to look you just slide around the other side of 'em.

At around the fourth row we came upon a group of real hard asses. These kids didn't have drinks or anything, but they weren't about to move for anyone. The show started so we had to lay low for a bit. I held up my cell phone and filmed the performance of the first two songs for my blog, but I won't post it because the video came out like shit. Then I really needed a cigarette, so I smoked it secretly by cupping it inside of my hand, and blowing all the smoke into the full, curly hair of the girl in front of me.

The crowd got really excited when they heard the intro to the next song, so I used the distraction to slip the air horn out from the large make-up bag in my purse. Then I started blaring it into my armpit where no body could see each time the singer sang the chorus. As the bouncers moved in from the front I slipped the horn into the tote-style purse that the girl in front of me was carrying, and I began pointing at her from behind. She and her friend were carried off, and me and Darla were in the third row! And with the use of proper timing and clumsy dancing we quickly made it up to the front!

What's so important about being in the front row, you ask? Well you never know, you might end up like Courtney Cox or something! In fact, Darla got invited back stage herself, and she brought me along because I was her ride! Unfortunately I had to sit outside the lounge on a folding chair while listening to three roadies gangbang my daughter in the next room. It was silly if you ask me! Don't they know about the pleasures that only a freaky groupie cougar-milf can bring?!

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