Adventures at the Roxy

So, my lovely Ms. Cassie and I made the trek to W. Sunset Blvd. to check out My Chemical Romance at The Roxy on a Saturday night. Yeah, wow. I couldn't possibly stand Los Angeles traffic any less. Anyways, the show was awesome. The opening act (Lost Alone) was surprisingly good, of course any group of men with tattoos, dirty, long, black hair and instruments is appealing to me, so perhaps not so entirely surprising, but really their music was good. MCR came on at about 10:00 ish. They, as usual, played a long, riveting set. Lead singer is very entertaining. He also hides his age well, which was a topic between Cassie and I. How old is he? 32 years old (I googled that shiznat.) Maybe I'm not the best judge, but man looks like he's 25. Maybe not even 25. Man has a baby face. Of course I think he's unbelievably gorgeous. I am a sucker for those damn baby faces. I am shameless.

We drank cheap beer and bought t-shirts. I attempted to snap as many decent photographs as possible. Unfortunately, I am apparently still suffering from the effects of a lobotomy and forgot to put my memory card in the digi. cam. and was only allowed 16 pictures for the entire evening. Oh and also have lost the computer adapter for the camera so said pics I did manage to take (which are great btdubs) are stuck inside my camera until further notice. The ones taken with my phone are of minimal quality, as seen above. A picture is a picture, though, I suppose.

The crowd in line was as I had predicted. You could have spotted them a mile away. Young, chubby fangirlies sporting red ties and black shirts. Praying for a chance to catch a glimpse of Frank or Gerard sneaking around somewhere. Hoping for a quick brush with their screamogodheartthrobhoneycrush turned rockinmarrieddadguy. I would be a liar if I said that same experience wouldn't tickle my fancy slightly. Standing there on Sunset I felt like I was fourteen again. Only the fourteen year old me wouldn't even believe or probably be able to stand the me of today ha ha. Ripped panty hose was plentiful. Guyliner, skeleton gloves, converse, tight pants, hideous hair, vampire makeup and the like. However, once we were inside things weren't quite as sickening. It was a invite only show (not bragging just to make that clear.) You either won tickets off KROQ or had to be invited via e-mail. Luckily for Cassie, I am a member of the band's fanclub (still shameless) and I scored us free tickets to that beeyatch (still not bragging.)

Although we didn't have the pleasure of experiencing an appropriately placed Michael Jackson cover (which we hoped for desperately), we looked WAY HOT and we had a lot of fun. I say we should do this much more often.