ITEM THREE: Peaches Fucked My Pain Away.
Rewind a bit to Saturday night. Peaches. In concert. At the Bowery Ballroom.
Her opening act was a pair of tall, leggy, busty German women going by the name of Cobra Killer. They enjoyed many activities: waving flags about, crowd-surfing, pouring large bottles of wine on their heads and down their dresses, and shaking their heads so their long hair would splash wine on the audience. At one point, I declared them to be just like "A scary industrial German hug!" Also, when they commanded the crowd to "Line up in a queue!" they reminded me just how much I truly, viscerally enjoy the word "queue." Cue-You-Eee-You-Eee.
The audience was largely made up of girls in funny outfits, and gay couples. Including this funny little couple standing just in front of me and my boy. It was pretty patently obvious that they were putting on a show for us -- they kept making out and grinding all over each other, and occasionally "accidentally" bumping into us, or at least shooting the two of us some rather sultry glances. The boy and I agreed that they were essentially delivering an engraved invitation, and then proceeded to ignore them for the rest of the show. The best part about their performance? At the end of the show, they shook hands with each other, said "Nice to meet you!" and walked their separate ways.
Now, as for Peaches herself--she was fucking brilliant. Moving smoothly from sings I had not heard, such as "Shake Your Dick Shake Your Dick" to old favorites like "Lovertits," and sporting a big, bushy, curly mullet, I could not have been more excited.
Until, that is.
Until at one point in the show, when she just...disappears. She is still singing, but I cannot hear her. Someone else is on stage, dancing her big ol' boobs off. I decide that I had best take a bathroom break when Peaches is not on stage, so I start to quickly make my way to the back. It is at this point that I find out what happened to Peaches. She has been making her way around the audience, and as I push through a knot of audience members, suddenly find myself full-on, flat-out, face-to-face with her. She looks at me in my extra-low-rise extra-boot-cut jeans and tight camouflage t-shirt, and, while she continues to sing, mind you: she makes an "oooooh you're hot" face, and then runs her hand down my chest. I flash a wildly excited goofy grin, and step aside as she continues to dance. Peaches made a "You're hot" face at me. All is right with the world.
Of course, my cool Peaches story was completely trumped by the fact that metalheart's friend got pulled up on stage at the end of the show to sing some karaoke "Fuck the Pain Away" and got to grind on Peaches and sing to the crowd. But -- I will always have my moment. My moment when Peaches mouthed "oooh" at me.