All the Horrible Girliness

I had weird dreams last night. I can't remember what. Something involving a pink Lamborghini. And a girl named Brenda I haven't seen or thought about in twelve years. She wanted to do me.

Back to business. We went to the Birthday Massacre show last night. It made me happy in pants. I mean skirt. Cheap pleather skirt. It was so good, seriously, people. The opening band was The Start, and they ruled just as much with their Siouxie-meets-Blondie vibe. Singers were both total stars.


Celeste colored my hair. We ran an hour late but it didn't matter. The place wasn't that packed. In line she put it up into four pigtail things, and did my makeup. But here we are at Justin's, pre-makeup . Mister Aran's making me uncomfortable trying to take a picture. He makes me nuts with the annoyed picture taking. I don't pose, okay?


I can't drive in those boots. Not very well, anyway. So I put 'em on when I get there. Yeah, those are Hello Kitty laces, thank you.


This is after we got home. I look a little ragged. Hair's a little messier, shirt's a little stretchier and wrinklier. Whatever. You get the idea. Gym socks, fishnets, pleather skirt, and AWESOME HAIR. Holy crap, Celeste, it rules.


Better view of the hairstyle. And the scientific, engineered, I mean guys-in-lab-coats making my life better bra from Fredrick's of Hollywood. Thank you, Fred. I can call you Fred, right?


Mister Aran was the hottest of us. Got the most elevators. I met two girls named Season and Rachel. Said they were sisters. Used to be monsters at Knott's Scary. They were standoffish about us but warmed right up when they saw the hotness of Mister Aran in platform boots. Works every time.


The secret to my power is lots and lots of rubber bracelets.

And that's all for the Samus picture fest, boys and girls. Catch the B-Day Massacre whenever you can. You won't regret.

posted by Samus @ 11:15 AM