Jaded And Secretly Embittered Fans on the Road


(sort of a Moist narrative/exposition/concert review/road movie starring a cast of thousands)

PROLOGUE:

Warning! This is actually partially rooted in fact, and perhaps partially fiction (that is, the propaganda that spews forth from the mind of an over-worked, under-paid, neurotic, psychotic, and occasionally maniacal disembodied voice with a sporadic Italian accent, a large supply of antidepressants and green persimmons, and a bordering-on-obscene lack of gear and flashing lights, packed in a small dark airless room with an equally maniacal slavedriver/webmistress, who would make any self-respecting evil/satanic road manager take notes and weep in shame, staring at her vacantly in a vain attempt to rediscover her personal life whilst the aforementioned deranged lunatic attempts to stave off a blind mind-shrivelling bender by exploring more thoroughly the secret yet fertile creative time that lies between 2 and 4 am, sucking back triple-fermented beer (gleefully endorsed by Jeff himself) out of an unmarked black bottle, who would rather spend quality time with the voices screaming in her head than with the giddy and vindictive webmistress who tactfully shrieks "is it done yet" administering a few good swift boots to the spleen with cries of "you're faking - entertain them!" and simply indulges in unending and redundant life-sucking and rarely accurate speculation about when the ill-advised and hideous mockery of a Moist narrative will be completed and perhaps, just perhaps, the slightly twisted author of this tale may just become fed up with the malignancy and torture of imitating Kevin's supreme wit and talent [ed. note: See Kate, I am not mean to Kevin] and merely end it all..."Hey! Is the sun shining out of my ass, or did I just sit on Stan's flashlight?")...Enjoy moistlings, moisties, moistites, moistettes, moistkateers, moisters, moistresses and what-ever-the-hell-else you call your selves!?!

ROLL TAPE...

Ladies and Gentlemen presenting for your seeing, touching, feeling, reading, and listening enjoyment...(drumroll here)...DAVID AND HIS AMAZING TECHNICOLOUR PANTS (uh, no...sorry, wrong story)...presenting...IS THAT A HAIRPIECE JEFF OR IS YOUR CHEST REALLY THAT HAIRY...(oops, not quite)...announcing...HEY IF YOU THINK KEVIN TWITCHES SPORADICALLY TAKE A LONG LOOK AT MARK NEXT TIME YOU'RE AT A SHOW...(i swear i'm really going to write that one some day)...in all seriousness, presenting...DAVE'S BARE CRACK (hey folks, i could seriously write a novel about that one)...actually IS THIS IRRITATING YOU YET productions presents...

ON THE ROAD AGAIN...

(The continuing saga of two friends bound by an insatiable lust for pain, suffering, and smelly sweaty men grinding against them [get your minds out of the gutter, i was not referring to the band] to attend every Moist show humanly possible in the shortest amount of time possible to exhaust themselves and most of their bank account while no doubt putting their very health and welfare at risk with each passing body surfer and razor-sharp moist poster (big sloppy kisses to the merch-guy), and in fact sometimes suffering injuries due to bandmembers (no David, I won't ever mention that it was you that almost cut off my air supply with a certain part of your anatomy) HEY! Were you reading that? I'll have you know that was private!!

Anyway, on with THE SHOW...
So, the two "not yet quite as jaded as they will become later and certainly not yet as bitter as they will reveal themselves to be" fans embark upon 1997 show #1 in the seemingly unending Moist bender their lives have become. Scene...Hamilton, Ontario, February 8th. Weather...chilly enough to shrink a grown man's testicles. Time...12 00 hours. One half of this twisted duo waits 6 hours in this hellish frozen tundra with nothing but a tasteless hot chocolate and a numb ass as her companions, while an evil and equally twisted security guard who shall remain nameless (Mike from Risk Protection in T.O.) rants about David Usher making faces at her from behind the glass doors. Half of the twisted duo thinks that had her ass not been so numb she might have just made him regret those comments in a fashion that even the Druh-mur would have been proud of. Half of the twisted duo patiently waits for the other half to show up and take her rightful place at the front of the line, where her faithful sidekick and pathetic underling waits in the freezing cold for her webmistress to appear (By now I'm sure you've guessed who the frozen pathetic underling is right?). The "queen" finally arrives and after an additional hour of torture the gates of heaven open and the pair are whisked to the front row to await the objects of their desire (you guessed it - Stan and Graeme!), while hitting on the bouncers, because everyone knows this is the best way to avoid people who have a death wish bouncing off your head.

In a blaze of sound and fury (signifying nothing) Moist arrives, and one half of the pair (let's call her Jaded), strung out on tea, maxed out on dye, who is always to blame but she can't see why, realizes that horror(!) it seems David is wearing the Blue Cords, which, when revealed by the removal of that equally horrid black hooded sweatshirt, seem to be riding a wee (pardon the pun) low, low, low. Half number two (let's call her Embittered) seems to be horrified by Jeff's acceptance of the hurt that only Dave can sell, (which would go hand in hand with the envy that Mark has worn so well...everybody wants...everybody says...everybody gets sidetracked in time). Show #1 runs smoothly until David decides he would like to get more intimate and interactive with the "semi-jaded but not yet terribly embittered" front row fans and walks onto them. Of course, someone must bear him up, take care that he does not fall, make sure he is still able to lull the crowd into submission with his own sadistic brand of lullaby...the job falls to them, and they accept with all the voracity of Kevin rolling posters on the bus. Jaded realizes that she must hold David steadily lest he be prematurely sacrificed into the willing arms of the crowd and grabs a hold of his thigh, meandering dangerously close to making David sound a bit like Jeff's vocals in Silver (ie. approaching soprano). However all is well that ends well, and David is returned safely to the stage with not only all of his own clothes but many that the crowd have offered him as well. For the rest of the show Jaded and Embittered are showered, spit on, and have most of their shirts ripped off for the mere privilege of being so close to Moist. Somehow Jaded manages to injure her arm and Embittered manages to inadvertently flash the band, so obviously a good time was had by all. The night ends with Jaded having an in depth conversation with an obviously visually impaired young lad who asks if she is naturally blond (obviously not, and Jaded is now a red-head soon to be brunette who it is rumoured keeps changing her appearance simply to escape the bitterness of David Usher) and Embittered refusing to bother "the ginger guy" who had adopted the name of "triangle head" since we couldn't figure out who he was, and of course a trip to meet the Merch-guy and buy the $10 moist poster, both of whom would become so dear to them later on...

EPILOGUE:

OK, so that wasn't much of a moist road trip, but hey we both live in "the hammer" and trust me, the drive to the convention centre wasn't very exciting. The next instalment of Jaded and Embittered Fans on the Road will actually have them on the road en route to the February 11th show in St. Catherines (Front 54). Can't wait...want a little tantalizing tease about what's coming up in future episodes...OK...
...STAY TUNED...THE BEST IS YET TO COME.