during our weekly friday-night-spitfist-jam-session-booze-fest some guys from work showed up at the space. we were a couple songs and a couple more tall cans in when they shyly shuffled through the door. the room was smaller than they had imagined so five of them were wedged up between amps and unused floor toms. i watched their expressions as they watched our sludgy, fart-filled set. this group of men "raised by women" gulped warm beer as we plowed through songs about terry fox being lazy, our vaginas being stretched by massive dicks and mouths being sliced apart by cpt. crunch (another dick).
stunned isn't the right word, but it's the only one that fits. it might have been my imagination. it could be that most girls make goat cheese & chocolate truffles and giggle over bacon before chanting "my dick is a clit" at 140 bpm... i wouldn't know.
i think the work-bros had a good time. i'm pretty sure it was a little more raucous than expected. i'm totally positive having hidden hard-ons in the room got our creative juices flowing (see what i did there?) and i'm alright with that. i mean, back in the days of playing live that was always my goal: to make people want to fuck me... and hey, if a bunch of babes hoarking, belching, screaming, gyrating and making fun of cripples is what does it for you: you're fucked. just like us. hello to you.