This is Mandy
This is Cyn


Jamming all the guitars-and-amps stuff, plus Roy's breakables PLUS two girls worth of girly gear into a smart car is a true feat of spatial arrangement. And Cyn, riding across town with her legs spread wide and the Harlot between them? Also a feat of spatial arrangement, but one that she's used to...

Oh good grief. So we motor over to Roy's. He leaves his house, takes one look at us in our pink jackets, and turns around to go back in. He really is sort of ashamed of us, isn't he? Maybe he forgot clean underwear. (Mandy did!) Who the hell knows. Anyway, we're soon all jammed into Roy's car and off to London, in a traffic jam with no CD player. Only the beepity boop of Mandy's twittering to soothe us.

...yeah, 'till you jerks confiscated mah phone for excessive twittering. having to talk to real people is weird!

We stopped for dinner somewhere around Cambridge and in the lineup at the Tim Horton's was a girl in tight gray jeans with the best ass I've ever seen. I quietly pointed it out to Mandy, who agreed. Roy took a glance over his shoulder, then quickly switched seats so he could admire the view properly. Snaps to you, hot-ass-girl!
Okay, I don't know why, but autographing titties just NEVER gets less funny. Why is that? How is that possible? One minute I'm handing someone a button that says "I was sexually harassed by High Heels Lo Fi", then I'm grabbing her rack in front of Roy to make him stare, then I've got a pen in one hand and a breast in the other. Laughing into oblivion.
Oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah! I got to sign my first breasts too! Not quite as awesome as Syber's ass but still pretty darned good.

We'll never know why the other band cancelled, but being asked, "Hey - Can you guys be the headliner?" is something that makes you yell YES pretty darn quickly.
That was the amazing moment when you realize that it was totally worth pushing Cristal down the stairs so that we could become the lead dancer in the Stardust Casino's topless revue... or am I confusing us with Showgirls again?

Oh yeah... so the actual show part. We jumped up on stage, we played. No... we rocked. No... we RAWKED THE FRIKKIN UNIVERSE. Seriously, we were so relaxed & hyper & hilariously amused that we turned the whole room orange. There were girls up front dancing! There was a "perverts row" of happy drunk guys across the front tables. Everyone in the room was boppin' their heads. A girl rushed the stage & stole the mic to sing the last chorus of Shook Me. People waltzed. It was a full on insane riot of awesoming awesome. We played the best we ever played. I was actually relaxed while singing. Wow.
Yeah, that was NUTZ! I had total amp envy 'cause the band before us had these 700 watt behemoths, and then it turned out there was no DI for our amps, so my lil' practice amp had every knob turned to 11 (or "cranked to the tittes" as the promoter put it) and it sounded like Jimi Hendrix's dog crawled in there to die, but it got 'er done!
We really do need a sugar daddy or some sort of music deal so that we can afford the super loud but super small & light amps. Christmas is coming - have we been really really good this year?
Oh yeah - at some point I asked the audience to flash us. Two guys jumped up on their chairs and lifted their shirts. Woohoo! I love it when people play along with the lunacy.
That was ridiculous...and turning around to see Roy flashing his moobies back at them? Exponentially ridiculous...

Hey Mandy - did you like my one fingered "guitar solo" with my pick lick-stuck to my face so i could take a drink?
Classic move that. And I deserved the finger--I did holler "world's longest guitar solo" and made you do it. I was a little worried that we wouldn't have enough music to last for a headlining set, but between excessive yapping and arseing about between tunes, and Roy taking about five minutes to end every song with Big Rawk Drama, we totally worked it and ended just in time to say "Last call, last call at the bar for alcohol!" We have arrived.

I vaguely recall yelling something about "stop clapping for us! it's last call! don't waste time - let's get drunk!"
How many times did i have to beg, "don't let me drink beer! don't let me drink anything other than vodka & soda!" Nobody listens to me. Vodka, Steamwhistle, Jello Shots, Jagar, Vodka, and bloody Corona. argh. my soul hurts.
...heh...

Luckily I'm less of a total germaphobe when I'm drunk, because I truly believe that alcohol kills germs. There were SO many hands to shake & strangers to hug. It's really weird having a dozen strangers tell you that your band is fantastic & they totally dig you.
That was SO wow, and so much fun having all those people really like our show. And once again, I was the Scarlet Harlot's nice but plain friend that all the guys talk to in order to get to her...that's OK, I'm the one who gets to take her home...

Baby, you are anything but plain!!!

OK, but so, OK, so absolutely, without question, the best moment of the night came when we were leaving the bar, I was carrying the Harlot, and went over to the chip truck across the street for some quality cholesterol. As I was waiting this lil' McCutiepants comes over and starts chatting with me, asking if I'd played that night, and said that his band had been playing at another bar, chat chat chat, then he looks up and says "wow, check out that limo! Someone's riding in style tonight" as this huge white, supapimpin' 70s limo pulls up...and Cyn rolls down the back window and hollers "YO Mandy! Hurry up! We gotta roll!" and I'm all "Oh hey, it's my ride, gotta scram, great to meet you!" and he's pretty much speechless with this look "why doesn't my band get those kinda gigs?" on his face. Why? 'Cause my band is rollin' pinker...

When we eventually woke up / came to, dressed, took a cab to the car, loaded gear from the bar into the car, found a place for breakfast (at 1pm), we were exhausted & dumb. So dumb that I forgot to leave a tip for our waitress at the diner. Man I feel like a jerk. So I mailed her a tip, a note, and some band stickers. Think she'll forgive us?
I'm guessing that we're not the first jerks to forget to tip, but the first ones who felt so bad about it that she got her tip in the mail. She''ll prolly forgive us and maybe even come to the next London gig...

My only regret is that the photo I took of Roy coming out of the shower wearing only a towel was somehow deleted before I could upload it to Facebook.
I think that was your camera's way of saying 'Oh god, my EYES! It buuuuuuurns!"