Gettin' Down with Girl Talk

Saturday night my friend Rogue 2 and I went to hipster hell, otherwise known as Johnny Brenda's. We were there to see Girl Talk. We got more than we bargained for.

Most of the patrons were dressed in gender-specific uniforms.

Girls: weird clothes. Karen O-ish. Mismatched pieces, most of it from your local vintage shop.

Boys: supertight shirt and jeans for skinny boys. Button down shirt or zip up hoodie and jeans for boys with junk in their trunk.

Having sat in my car and swigged Stoli Blueberi straight from the bottle and chased it with Sprite, Rogue 2 and I were in a pretty good place by the time we arrived at Johnny Brenda's.

We met a douchebag who thought he was really cool, but who was one of the most obnoxious fucks I've ever met. He confirmed this fact by spitting in the dish of oyster crackers. Which meant that I had to watch the dish so I could tell people not to eat the crackers. Because you can't let your fellow (wo)man eat a cracker laced with someone else's saliva.

We saw an obviously gay young man going at it with a young woman. Someone should've told her that her boyfriend likes men. We couldn't decide whether or not she was aware of it. Perhaps bisexuality is the new black.

We saw many women in tunic sweaters with red belts around their waists. It's the 80s again.

When Girl Talk went on, we were in the back. Aw hell no, I thought, as we danced our way up to the top of the room and ended up right in front of the stage. It was a tight squeeze. A cute tall boy with curly hair danced behind me all night. I think I still have the imprint of his boner on my jeans. He looked like he was all of 22. Delicious. He's lucky I'm dating someone. He could've been dessert.

It was all good in the hood until I got pinched. My friend told me I should've smacked the girl in the back of the neck. Someone else said I should've hit her with my shoe. Not sure how much damage a single Converse would've done, but it might've been funny. Instead, I let her get in front of me, which is what she wanted, and then I took a chunk of her back and pinched the fuck out of it, while twisting as hard as I could. I can't think about it without cackling.

Neck slapping was not in the spirit of Girl Talk. That shit was b-a-n-a-n-a-s. A music lover's wet dream. Who knew samples from your favorite hip hop songs mixed in with the rock music you love could result in such ecstasy? Who knew "Juicy" went with "Tiny Dancer" so well? Best part: he looked right at me and asked if we were ready for "Scentless Apprentice." I peed a little. Then he stood on the table, started screaming the song, and jumped right into the audience. I almost caught a foot in the head. Yes!

We danced all night long. We drank too much. We smoked just enough. My glasses fell off twice. I woke up the next morning with a terrible headache. Life is good.

Image Credit: Flickr user matthew.hickey