Prepare . . . for total domination.
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2002-09-16
We're Not Groupies. We're Band-Aids.
Continuing to reinforce my destiny to become a rock star despite utter lack of musical talent, I hung out with Nickelback and Godsmack (hey, rhyme twins!) yesterday. Shawn, Jennifer, my buddy Matt and I hit Zetafest yesterday, sporting our ALL AREA ACCESS!!! passes.

It was a bitch to get there, though. We started out in Shawn�s car (Mr. Boombastic), and popped a tire about 20 miles from home. Of course, the lug wrench thingy we had didn�t fit one of the bolts, so we had to call a tow truck guy and borrow his. Next, we had to head back and get my wheels, CAR2D2. On the way back to our apartment, Mr. Boombastic popped another tire. (Incidentally, I had a talk with Shawn about that this morning. She has to do SOMETHING. She pops tires like prom night pops cherries.)

Fortunately, the second breakdown was right in front of Matt�s pad, so we were able to get to CAR2D2 post haste. I drove to the Fest, like a mosh-craving maniac.

Shawn�s been talking all week about sleeping with rock stars. She had to let us know one more time on the way into the concert that she would most certainly put out of the occasion presented itself.

Shawn: �I�m going to sleep with Nickleback.�

Me: �One of them or all of them?�

Shawn: �Whatever. I�m not picky.�

Me: �What are you going to use to commemorate the occasion?�

Shawn: �Hmm. I don�t know.�

Me: �Like, I slept with Nickleback, and all I got was this used condom?�

Shawn: �Oh yeah, that�s it. I�d totally save the condom. I�d frame it.�

Me: �Ew.�

Shawn: �Wuss.�

Me: �But that gives you the option of preserving some sperm. Then, later on, you could have Nicklebabies.�

Matt: �NICKLEBABIES! Oh, my god.�

And then, it was time to get wanded, head inside, and see exactly what �All Area Access� entails.

Me: �Matt, if we have not entered every single place this pass allows us to enter, then we will have FAILED.�

Matt: �Agreed.�

As it turns out, it wasn�t quite the open access for which we�d hoped, but it was still pretty fucking sweet. We walked in while Jimmy Eat World was playing. (We were way late because of the car setbacks.) I immediately headed for behind the stage. No problemo. We found the aisle that was the buffer between the stage and the freaking huge, loud, sweaty crowd. We walked on by � we could be on the edge of the buffer, but got kicked out when I was standing right in the middle, 2 feet from the band, rocking out.

Kids in the crowd begged us to let them borrow our passes. We snorted and went back to the band trailers to whore around for some photos. Once we were in the vicinity, we all looked around, looked at each other, and simultaneously came to the realization that not one of us would recognize a guy from any of the bands if they came up and Godsmacked us in the ass. So we spent a while playing the game of �Is he famous? What about him?� What we pretty much did was look for someone who was signing things, then go up and ask for a photo. (I�ve been googling all day to try to figure out who we met.) When that was boring, we went in search of free food and liquor.

We found it. Thanks, Bacardi and Hooters! Bacardi had set up this crazy tent over a red carpet, and the entire area was filled with inflatable furniture. (Although inflatable furniture + South Florida humidity was not the most pleasant combination. My ass sweat production was way up yesterday.) We were only able to score three drink free bracelets, so everyone got one but me. Everyone felt really bad for me, while I smirked internally, relishing my exemption from drink bitch duties ALL NIGHT LONG.

Hooters had wings and burgers. We ate and drank and completely ignored Jimmy Eat World and Saliva. Shawn and I deflated a giant Bacardi beach ball to take home. It�s really, really hard to balance on inflatable furniture after three Rum-and-Sprites. Jennifer went ass over end more than once. When Nickleback started and we were all pretty toasted, we headed to the stage area. We didn�t go in the special aisle � instead, we found it�s way easy to get right up front when you�re starting from the front, as opposed to working your way up from the back like all the other peons had to do.

We moshed and danced and sang and had fun. Jennifer�s dumb ass moshed in FLIP-FLOPS. Then, she had the nerve to complain that her feet were cut and bruised. This is like being a fireman and bitching about the heat. Or skydiving and complaining that the wind is drying up your contact lenses. At one point, she went down on her butt in the middle of the moshers. Matt and I pulled her out of the fray, and she immediately said, �I lost my pass.�

Fuck.

We began the futile search amongst sweaty backs, stomping feet, and more creative facial hair than 50 boy bands. Just as I was about to give up, I spotted that sucker under some dude�s foot, right by the stage. Dude, I fucking found it. I keep waiting for someone to give me a medal or something.

We walked around a little more, and when things started shutting down, headed out of there. I was wearing a cute red Bacardi hat that I stole from a Marine. Yes, even in these patriotic times. Girl�s gotta do whatever it takes. Jennifer barfed at a gas station, then all of us � including Pukeyface � gorged ourselves at Denny�s. There was an incident where we all blew water at each other with our straws, but I don�t want to talk about that.

Finally, we arrived home. I zonked out in the car and did something I�ve always done, ever since I was a little kid. Whenever I fall asleep in a car, I�m a bitch to move. �Leave me here!� I don�t remember it (I never do), but Shawn told me this morning.

They must have coaxed me inside somehow, because I woke up on my couch at 5:30 a.m., dirty and exhausted. I crawled into bed and woke up an hour later for work.

I love weekends.

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