queens of the stone age

Last night I went to Queens of the Stone Age at the Vic in Chicago with that crazy girl Sarah, my pal Rick and his brother Bill. I knew it was going to be a night of aggression right away when Rick called me to tell me that traffic was all fucked up. When Rick and Bill made it over they were engaged in some sort of slap boxing, smiling with clenched teeth. More than once I was subtly invited to break Bill's jaw, but I wanted no part of it. I just wanted to go get Sarah and then hit the show.

Sarah is fucking hot. A couple weeks ago she was looking a bit tubby, but all that was weighing her down is mysteriously gone. I don't get it. She has a grand attitude as well. Before the show we met up at Sheffield's because it's a block from The Vic and because they've got a great beer garden and because the beer garden's got this super thick tree that has to be at least 150 years old... which is remarkable considering that it's located in the center of the northside of Chicago... a neighborhood that has been highly populated for 150 years. I think that that is remarkable... chew on that for a bit and get back to me... and it was like freakin 77 degrees last night. So we're drinking a couple of beers before the show and talking about Michael Jackson, and I said that he's dropping a few million on attorneys, so I figured that he'd get off. Bill cut me short and turned to Sarah and said "what gets you off?" That was pretty funny because Bill has some mental issues and he's super weird. Sarah took it great and said "I don't think I know you well enough to give you an answer." Bill's about 25 years old now and I've known him since he was 17. It took me about three years to figure out that he wasn't kidding and that he's fucked up for real.

We got to the show and the crowd was suprisingly sedate. Not that many women and not that many dudes who looked like they could kick my ass. That kind of disappointed me. When I go to a metal show I want to see a room of tattoo'd emotional disturbed fuck ups... not IT guys sipping a beer, sneaking looks at Sarah's body and giving me "please don't kill me" glances before turning away. Pussies!

The Vic is a great venue - built in the 1920's with a capacity of around 2,000. It's a grimy beer puddle of cigarette butts and one hitters that's perfect for a rock show.

The opening band sucked.

Queens rolled on around 9:45 and fucking rocked it. It was great to see a really good rock show. Midway through the set I noticed that Bill and Rick had strayed. I figured they'd moved down to the floor to jump into the pit. I didn't want to move because Sarah didn't want to go down on to the floor, and I was liking the view (Sarah's fine figure) from where we were at.

When the show ended Rick came over and said that he didn't know where Bill went and that we had to go back to Sheffield's because he left his bar tab open. We stepped outside and waited for the joint to clear. No Bill! Sarah told me a couple of times that Bill was freaking her out and that she didn't know that he was fucked up. I told her that it took me three years to figure out that he wasn't kidding. Rick did a loop and No Bill! We decided that Bill must've walked back to the bar. We went to the bar. No Bill! We had a couple drinks, and then walked Sarah home. We jumped the L and went back to my place. No Bill! Bill's car was still there but No Bill! Rick figured that he could be anywhere.

Rick crashed and I got him up at 6:30 to take the train back to the south side. After seven beers and about 38 cigarettes the night before I decided to kick my own ass and ride in on pista. I thought the sweat and exercise would cleanse me a bit. I was wrong, I still feel like a piece of shit. I got to work and checked my messages. Bill called my cell at 3:30 in the morning from a pay phone saying that he was in jail and needed a ride. I called Rick to get the story, but he was already on the road headed to Michigan.

That's fucked up.