Okay, this will be as much update as I have time for, which is I don’t know how much. :)
So I left off with us panicking about clothing. And hair. We’d bought this brush-in color goo stuff, which they claim you could style your hair and then brush in, which is like saying you can style your hair and /then/ gel it. Didn’t work the way it said it would. But I liked my hair okay anyway, and Sarah kept saying hers looked like she’d fingerpainted it, but it didn’t. :)
We have no record of the clothing panic, because it didn’t even *occur* to me to take pictures, so you’ll just have to imagine four women going AUGH and the like about their clothes. Eventually Deen and Angie both changed into other clothes they’d brought along — but that was after we’d gone to the club. Anyway, that reduced the panic factor, and I wasn’t panicking, really, although I did end up being the only one wandering around with bare nekkid shoulders. C’est la vie.
Anyway, after panicking, we went to the club, and got in, and then the Interminable Waiting began. To be utterly blunt, the whole thing sucked quite a lot. We stood around for two hours while the crowd got uglier. Way, *way* too many people were in the club; I’m sure that the entire club’s capacity wasn’t met, but 95% of the people in the club were in the stage room, and there was no breathing room, and people were crabby before James was an hour late. Many people seemed to be under the impression that the show was going to start at 8, not 9, so by the time 9 rolled around they were already unhappy, and then there was no explanation as it crept up to 9:10, and 9:15, and 9:30, and eventually to 10pm.
Initially we were all four up at the front of the room, more or less, but then people were *leaning* on Sarah, and she didn’t like that very much, so she headed for the back of the room, hoping it would be less crowded, and I joined her. Well, it was less crowded. For a while. And then it got just as crowded as the front of the room. Way, *way* too many people there.
And there were people chanting, “We want James! We want James!” and doing other crap like that, and I just thought … buh. The guy doesn’t do this because he has to. It’s not an obligation on his behalf to show up and entertain people. I just … I donno. I thought it was astonishingly obnoxious. Perhaps I live in a different universe than most people.
I certainly live in a different universe from the chick who actually got up on the stage and was sitting on one of the speakers (?) and peeking backstage periodically. The horrifying thing was that she had hair about Deen’s length, and was wearing a v-neck shirt, and from where we were the lighting was just not good enough for us to be able to tell if it was Deen, and we were going to be just *horrified* if it was. Fortunately, it wasn’t. :)
So it got hotter and more uncomfortable and I discovered that the *real* disadvantage to wearing shoulderless/backless tops is that tall women with large breasts stand behind you and poke you in the shoulderblades and arms with their breasts in their knit tops and it feels *horrible*. Glah.
Wow, I’m having bad net. I wonder if I’ll be able to save this…
I suspect the first person who chanted “We want James” thought he was being complimentary (it’s good to be wanted, right?) and the rest figured it must be okay if someone else did it.
So these were synthetic breasts that were poking you? Or just itchy knit fabric?
Itchy fabric (she said, having gotten the benefit of the *other* itchy breast in *her* back). It really wasn’t fun.
And I really must reiterate: Yes, I have shoulders like a football player. No, they were not put on me so that I can serve as a leaning wall for *you*.