Surreal in Seattle

Above: I owe my night to Whoreleen and this man.

Last night was the most surreal evening I've had in a while. At one point I looked over the small room and realized I was standing next to these people: Boots Riley of The Coup, Mike McCready, lead guitarist for Pearl Jam, and Tom fucking Morello of Rage Against the Machine fame (also: Audioslave and The Nightwatchman). You might remember Tom most recently from Guitar Hero, where I totally kicked his ass after attempting to do so many times and only crying once. But as he reminded us last night on-stage: "It's just a fucking video game", which I took to mean as 'I acknowledge your God-like plastic guitar skills, Snotty, but I can play the REAL guitar.' And my only response to that is this: YOUR MOM'S A REAL GUITAR. Hey, it took me like 36 hours to beat Tom Morello, and then once I did, the overwhelming feeling of accomplishment was replaced with horror when I realized I had to beat Slash, too--are you fucking kidding me? I'd rather eat my left arm--AND THEN SATAN, or whoever that creepy dude is at the end. Thanks for making each of my fingers feel like separate, miniature failures! If little 9-year old kids can beat it, why can't I? Besides having no talent and being somewhat uninterested, I'm practically a shoo-in for success. Guitar Hero success.

Sometimes I read over my blog posts and think, based on what I've just written, no wonder I'm unemployed.

Thanks to Whoreleen's 'celebrity massage therapist to the stars' status, Tom got Chef Em and I on the fabled 'list' and we rocked out with our invisible cocks out. Em took off early, and we booked it backstage to drink in the giant vats of whiskey backstagey-ness of it all. Ended up downtown at Whym's Diner (formerly Minnie's, bleh) with Tom & Co. At one point, I realized the girl we'd been hanging with, Liz, was an old client of mine at Julep Nail Factory; my world keeps getting smaller, while growing large enough to include people like Mike McCready, I guess. I just need him to scoot over a bit to make room for Johnny Depp and Barack Obama, in that order. Last night, the bands had a political message that I'm going to pass on to you: VOTE, and then, ah, some other stuff. But to me, the real message was loud and clear: if you want to hang with celebrities, you just have to believe. YES WE CAN!

I also met some nice local guys, but Ari Joshua was the coolest, really down to Earth and fun to talk to. Apparently he's a music teacher for all kinds of instruments, except for the rape whistle (my personal favorite). I want him to teach me how to play the banjo! Snotty secretly hearts the banjo like a stinky redneck mofo. It's the Deep South coming out of me when it should be South Pacific. Favorite chorus last night: "ALL I WANNA DO IS JUST SHAKE MY SHIT, JUST SHAKE MY SHIT TONIGHT." Favorite gratuitous rock star pose: Mike McCready playing the guitar behind his back for what felt like five days. Amazing. Favorite moment of the evening: pooping my pants from sheer delight, over and over again. (Priceless.) Best text message: "Did last night even happen, or am I smoking crack?" Needless to say, it was the best night ever: good music, good friends, and an adorable lawyer to drive me home.

More posts later...I slept like shit last night. The price of partying with rock stars, I guess. Neener!

[RADWORDS]: TOM MORELLO, BOOTS RILEY, MIKE MCCREADY, RAGE, SATAN.