Tuesday, February 08, 2005
I'd like to thank everyone that came out to the Bridgewater show, especially those of you who stuck around for us. Some money was raised for the Sri Lankan fund. Not much, in my opinion, but certainly more than I expected from a crowd that size, especially considering most of the audience seemed to be band members who didn't have to pay (but were, of course, welcome to make donations).
I'm sorry I didn't warn you beforehand that there would be a few female musicians. I understand it can be shocking to see the likes of us playing music that rocks. Thankfully, no one suffered a heart attack or aneurysm due to the surprise, however, some of you proved you do not know how to behave yourselves around us. And I'm not talking about the teenage boys. They can't be blamed for staring at Poison. I stare at her too when they play, and I'm not a teenage boy.
I had the pleasure of witnessing a spectacle created by Johnny Hate. For those of you who don't know, he's the drunk, angry little "man" who trashed the jam spot way back when. He grabbed the mic and lectured us. "Bridgewater used to be THE place to go to rock out punk rock style. Ask anyone from Halifax and they loved the South Shore. Now look at you. YOU'RE ALL SITTING DOWN!!" I must say, he had a point. Although I'd never been to a B-water show, I'd heard stories and I'd expected more. However, if he wanted us to "rock out punk rock style" maybe he shouldn't lecture us during, what I would call, a metal band. Just a thought. I'm not saying they're bad, just that they're not "punk rock."
Anyway, the band kicked into another song, and Mr. Hate pushed everyone who was even remotely close to the dance floor as hard as he could, including my female friend who's not into that kind of stuff. So, ultimately, he succeeded in causing more people, who were standing, watching the band, to sit down. That's about when he exposed himself. He pulled his pants down the front of his pants and shook his penis around, pulled down the back and mooned us, did some more floor-punching moves, then pulled his pants way down, jumped around and smacked his cheeks in a "kiss my ass" gesture and eventually sat down. Don't get me wrong, I don't have much of a problem with his display, had it have been a regular old punk show (I laughed), but there was a family there working the donation table. A mother, father, and three daughters. The good thing is, the mother didn't stand for it. She marched over to his table, yelled, and pulled back and punched him. Hard. Good for her.
I spent the rest of the night at my friends' place. All in all, our trip to B-town was an in-ter-esting one.
I'm sorry I didn't warn you beforehand that there would be a few female musicians. I understand it can be shocking to see the likes of us playing music that rocks. Thankfully, no one suffered a heart attack or aneurysm due to the surprise, however, some of you proved you do not know how to behave yourselves around us. And I'm not talking about the teenage boys. They can't be blamed for staring at Poison. I stare at her too when they play, and I'm not a teenage boy.
I had the pleasure of witnessing a spectacle created by Johnny Hate. For those of you who don't know, he's the drunk, angry little "man" who trashed the jam spot way back when. He grabbed the mic and lectured us. "Bridgewater used to be THE place to go to rock out punk rock style. Ask anyone from Halifax and they loved the South Shore. Now look at you. YOU'RE ALL SITTING DOWN!!" I must say, he had a point. Although I'd never been to a B-water show, I'd heard stories and I'd expected more. However, if he wanted us to "rock out punk rock style" maybe he shouldn't lecture us during, what I would call, a metal band. Just a thought. I'm not saying they're bad, just that they're not "punk rock."
Anyway, the band kicked into another song, and Mr. Hate pushed everyone who was even remotely close to the dance floor as hard as he could, including my female friend who's not into that kind of stuff. So, ultimately, he succeeded in causing more people, who were standing, watching the band, to sit down. That's about when he exposed himself. He pulled his pants down the front of his pants and shook his penis around, pulled down the back and mooned us, did some more floor-punching moves, then pulled his pants way down, jumped around and smacked his cheeks in a "kiss my ass" gesture and eventually sat down. Don't get me wrong, I don't have much of a problem with his display, had it have been a regular old punk show (I laughed), but there was a family there working the donation table. A mother, father, and three daughters. The good thing is, the mother didn't stand for it. She marched over to his table, yelled, and pulled back and punched him. Hard. Good for her.
I spent the rest of the night at my friends' place. All in all, our trip to B-town was an in-ter-esting one.
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