The bitch in charge at Bloggerstock even sent me an email, and I felt the need to explain my post a little.
Here's my post. I hope it's going to a good home. Actually, I hope it goes to a dysfunctional home with a stepdad who drinks too much Natural Light and tells really embarassing jokes about his penis. I think my post would probably fit in better there anyways.
So I basically got Jew'd on my post.
On to the story I've been meaning to write for over a week.
A couple of weeks ago, I heard that the White Tie Affair would be playing at a bar in town starting at 4. So I decided to go because 1. I have an excuse to start drinking early 2. I have an excuse to leave work and 3. I have an excuse to start drinking early.
I met my future lesbian sister-in-law at the bar at 3:30. And yes, it was completely necessary to say lesbian there because we spent the first hour talking about hot girls/boobs/flirting with female bartenders.
When I ordered my first glass of wine, we asked the bartender when the show was supposed to start. After giving us a stupid shit ass response that did not answer our question, he asked if we were big fans. I didn't want to be a jerk so I figured I would just lie, say yes, and go find a table far away from this nosy sonofabitch bartender.
But... you see, sometimes my mouth has a way of getting ahead of my brain. Instead of giving a vague answer and leaving, my mouth said, "Oh, fuck yes. We are huge fans of White Tie Affair. Like, biggest fans ever. I have a poster of them on my wall, actually." And I'm not really sure how my mouth came to this decision, but I asked, "Do you think I can get them to make out with me at the end of the night? And by them, I mean all four of them."
(Interesting sidebar: There are only three of them. Mouth blew the cover again.)
After bullshitting my way through something that didn't even require bullshitting, I went to get a table with my sister-in-law and wait for Fiancee to show up. While we were waiting, our local radio personality showed up. After talking to the bartender for a few minutes, she made a beeline for our table.
Her: So the bartender told me that you guys are huge fans of White Tie Affair!
Me: Um, oh. Yeah, such huge fans! We love every single song! Best band ever!
Her: So which one is your favorite??
Me: My favorite? Oh, well. Um. How could I possibly choose? I guess, um, the singer?
Her: Oh, he's my favorite, too! They should be here any minute and then I can get you guys some autographs!
Me: Oh, super. Yeah, that's so exciting. Can't wait!
After she walked away, SIL and I looked at each other. "Fuck," I said. "What the fuck are we supposed to do now? I don't know anything about this damn band, and she's going to introduce us to them. Fuck that fucking bartender, dude." (You probably think my use of the word fuck that often in one sentence is odd, that I couldn't possibly cuss that much. Well, my friend, you are wrong. Especially after wine is involved.) After laughing at how ridiculous this night was already going (and getting my second glass of liquid courage), SIL came up with a great plan.
"Wait a second. You have your iPhone with you, right?" And that is all it took. I'm pretty sure that the iPhone was invented for moments like this. After googling the band, we actually found out something that intrigued us both.
White Tie Affair had played at a Playboy pajama party.
How badass is that? My lesbian SIL was excited about this discovery because duh. She likes hot women. I was excited about this discovery because hello? I'm pretty sure everyone can appreciate a hot girl with a nice rack, imjustsayin.
Now most people probably wouldn't center an entire interview around one random fact such as this. But we are not most people. When we were introduced to the lead singer, we let him know that we had several questions. At that point, stupidbitchradiopersonality pulled out a camera and said she wanted to film it.
Really, Universe? I know we lied, but come on! It wasn't even that big of a lie!
Luckily, we got through it pretty nicely, and I think I censored myself pretty well. (And by pretty well, I mean I only said "fuck" and "blow jay" once.) Plus it turns out the band is pretty fucking cool and could handle every question we threw at them with style and sex appeal.
Questions such as:
Did you get to squeeze some Playboy bunny boobies?
Do you know how many you got to squeeze?
Did you get a boner while performing in front of half-naked bunnies?
Did you see Hugh Hefner naked? If so, did his balls looks shriveled?
You toured with Lady Gaga. Did you fuck her?
I'm pretty sure this interview isn't going on the website.
Note: Also, the lead singer (whose name I still don't remember) signed a picture for me "To my favorite girlfriend. Rawrrr!" There's nothing like being a groupie.
Also? Remind me to tell the story of the nasty tittied groupie who was completely ignored by the band ALL. FUCKING. NIGHT. Maybe you should have spent your money on a sense of humor instead of a botched breast job, yaknowwhadimsayin?