decota

Queens of the Stone Age was so awesome! It was at the Wiltern which is already a good start. I love that venue and my dude has already completely penetrated the underbelly workings of that building for other shows.
We started out in the back near a VIP area. For some reason every time I go to a show and I look at the people in the VIP section they look like they are all miserable. I'm happy all those stuck-up grumpy groupers are roped off away from all of those who came to actually enjoy the show.

Since the VIP area was a drag we decided move closer to the stage by flashing our wrists quickly to staff as a few other people made their way down. A quick flash like you've done it a million times already and people don't seem to notice that you don't have the proper wristband. But once we were in that designated area this once drunk girl was a total pain in the ass. She's all " You're blrocking my view, ugh. I've been stvanding here all night." Things like this I don't understand. It's a fucking show! Of course I'm blocking her view. I am and so are the other hundred people in front of her! But always being polite I said "I'm sorry. Here. How 'bout I just stand next to you?"
"You can't stand there either. I'm saving that spot for my boyfriend."
"I'll move when he gets back."
Then she tried to shove me.
I moved to the other side of her where a not-so-drunk girl allowed me to stand.
After about ten minutes the drunk girl was looking around for her boyfriend. She turned around to look directly behind and there he was talking with some chick three rows back. Drunk Girl marched up grabbed him by the shirt and made him stand next to her.
If I was him I wouldn't have wanted to be near her either.
When we'd had enough of cranky-bitchy pants, we thought it best to mosey over to the pit.

To sneak into the pit we once again flashed "wristband" to the security guard. The first attempt failed, sometimes these guys are more on their toes then they appear, but for the second attempt we went to the other side of the stage where a stoney looking chic was manning the gate. It was dark, we flashed, and due to finesse, confidence and the correct bodily movement and her possible lapse in judgment, we were in the pit. Only 3 people stood between us and Josh Homme.

The show ended and went a peed. When I got out of the bathroom The Man says to me, "Alright. Now it's time to go backstage." We did not have passes or stickers or laminates. We had two black chords around our necks, placed just so my crossed arms could cover that fact that I did not have a pass. There was a line forming near the door to go to the dressing rooms. But the whole building in filled with doors. Most of them say "Alarm Will Sound" Not true. The Man knows these doors and backed his way into one. The security guard saw us we acted in our confident I-know-what-I'm-doing manner and Poof!, we were backstage. There was still a stair well that was guarded that we needed to get past. And judging by the tone of the room I can usually put on a fitting act. The tone for this evening was annoyed. There are always a few girls backstage that act as if going to meet the band is the worst thing possible and they look as though their rocker boyfriend dragged their trophy-ass against their will.
To avoid suspicion I kept my arms crossed and looked as annoyed as possible as we breezed past the 250lb man guarding the stairs. And Done!

Free Beer. The band was schmoozing. And What? Could it be? Why yes I think it is! Dexter!
Michael C. Hall was talking to Josh Homme like they were good buddies from way back. There in the flesh. A celebrity of what I would consider A-list status. He's taller in person and his head is not as big as it looks on TV. I was staring. Michael C. Hall saw me, smiled, nodded and went back to his conversation. It was cool.
I also spotted the dude from Swingers. I had to extensively google him when I got home because I didn't know his name. But it's Patrick Van Horn. He was there, and every time we crossed paths he smiled nicely.
When I encounter celebrities in the wild, they are skiddish and on-guard. They are exposed to people from all other strata and can't help but protect themselves by being defensive. But down in their caves know as VIP and backstage areas, where they are surrounded by their own species, the privileged and elite, and have ingested the magic mellow serum know as alcohol, celebs relax and you get to see them in a more natural state.
Until that one douch-bag who busts out his camera and starts taking pictures with every fucking person backstage whether they are famous or not. People tend to scatted and that's just what Michael C. Hall needed and after one flash he was gone. The guys from Queens stuck around but that's cause all their stuff and friends were still there. Patrick Van Horn stuck around too. It seemed he wasn't actually recognized by anyone other then me. He sensed this and tried to use his celebrity voodoo on me. All the beer and liquor was gone. I had the man's flask and I was sneaking a shot. Patrick Van Horn saw me. "Whoa whoa whoa! What is that? You can't have that?"
"Why not? Are you sure you're just not jealous cause you didn't think of it?"
"Lemme see that."
I handed the plastic flask to him. He tried to unscrew the top but I assured him it was now empty as I had just polished it off. Had there been even a drop left he would have guzzled it. I saw the look of excitement it his eye when I pulled it out the first time. If I was a dude, he would have never been so bold. But put a guy in a movie and he will say anything to any chick with the most blind confidence!
Or the liquor was gone, I had some and he wanted it. End of story.

The night was not as young, The Man and I were hammered, so we went home. Well, Del Taco...then home.