So, I went to the Journey, Styx and REO Speedwagon concert. It was, as expected a mass of white trash-- hereinafter WT.
So aside from the late-thirties women with huge teased bleached white hair throwing their size XXL panties on stage, the speed freak with the wife-beater on who thought the band was talking to him and him alone and the man with the two women who I’m still not sure if they were his wife and daughter or his girlfriends or possibly…both I met a lovely specimen I have dubbed ‘The Holstein.’
She single-handedly ruined my concert-going experience. She, too, was WT. She had bleached hair that was whiter than Kelly Bundy’s…it was completely devoid of color save the BLACK roots. And by black I mean blacker than my exboyfriend’s tub…
She was wearing a black top which showed how wonderful her hair was as it had broken off bits from her hair all over it…and then she had on black and white polka dotted pants. Now, I have nothing against polka dots, I find them to be quite refreshing, but I know that if you are heavy to begin with, polka dots all over your ass are just going to make you look like a cow. In the middle of this ensemble was about two inches of skin. Hmm, nice you think…a bit of belly. No, this was about two inches of skin hanging over her waistband…deliberately.
Now, at first the Hostein didn’t bother me, she was merely an interesting site. Midway through the first band she had sucked down a batch of chili-cheese nachos and seemed disinterested. I had no idea that those nachos would play an important role in my evening.
So, the second band, REO Speedwagon comes on. WOW, she stood up and so did everybody else, but her polka-dotted behind actually extended over her seat and into my face ( I was still sitting). It was literally 6 inches from my face. Well, that was fine too, let her have her fun I thought. However, I noted (due to the proximity it was hard NOT to notice) that several inches of cloth were trapped between her heaving buttocks. Well, I thought, that’s fine too but it must be uncomfortable. Then, the Holstein’s pants poof out and make a small balloon…right where they were previously wedged in.
This can’t be good.
Good GOD, she farted right in my face. The stench was so bad I cannot describe it except…have you ever heard that term “It smells like something crawled up your ass and died”? This was similar, but only if the dead something had another rotting dead animal crammed up it’s behind, too. Sort of like a rancid, putrid Turducken.
So, at that point I decided to stand up and avoid any more direct flatulence. She continued to dance and sway, her cow-clad ass, waiving it back and forth, and again…another balloon poof in her pants. Then the pants immediately get sucked back into the crack. And then the smell, but it seems worse this time…and smells like chili.
This continued until she sat back down between bands. Thank GOD, I thought, it’s over. But it wasn’t.
The last band, Journey, was, I suppose, her favorite band of all time. She stood up and screamed and hollared which is again fine. But then she began to bounce up and down, up and down. And each impact created another balloon. And each jump caused the material to be sucked back into her murky crack. It almost appeared as if something were breathing down there. Fart after fart after fart. The place was packed, everyone was standing, there was no escaping.
And then…you know what happens at concerts like this don’t you? Concerts at night with rock bands. Yes, people began waiving their lighters. As the guy next to me began to flick his bic I screamed “FIRE IN THE HOLE!”
Well, no, I didn’t, but I wanted to. Mind you, the flame seemed a bit too bright and green… but it did held the smell.
