rollerection
Which is when you go to a rollerdisco on the day of the holy resurrection. It’s not really about a deep throbbing appreciation for cylindrical foods.
Only two nights ago, my lover and I were topping the A list, such was our hotness right now then. We were so hot that, even though we were at least a decade older than the median in-crowd age, we danced on rollerskates for 5 hours without pause (resting as best we could during the shite performances). We pulled off figure-disco moves to industrial electro with no stoppers.
Just to prove my fallibility (thus making my hotness more authentic) I took a giant stack early on, right in the middle of the 11oclock show. I have a slightly sore left flank where my ample buttock absorbed the impact.
Luckily, the performance I interrupted involved a post adolescent goth computer geek on fucktruckloads of ice. Solo, skinny and shrouded in his own inner mirror, this boy really made an impact. Just him, his ipod, and his 10 metre mike, assaulted us all with his special brand of layered amphetamine binge induced hiphop rock industrial death music with a liberal dose of loungeroom legend. The product of weeks of ProTools abuse and paranoia left the audience defensive and the performer alienated. Nothin like an Easter roller stack to enhance a lagging performance. To remind people that sure, jesus died for our sins (a metaphor for my rollerstack) but he was resserected by god (a metaphor for when some guy in a cool suit helped me up amid the laughter and possibly applause).
Obviously this only served to increase my kudies as the night wore on, and the club kids saw just how ironic it was that the second best rollerdiscerator in the room (you know who you are baby) should drop such a smackdown.
As the hours rolled on, many people arriving at the club thought we were drug dealers, and discretely approached us to buy some of whatever we were on. Even the already drugfucked guy whose performance I dropped in on had a go. It’s been a while since I was mistaken for a drug dealer. Was it the rollerskates? I guess the exhaltations of the risen Jesus just can’t be cut and snorted these days.
OK that’s a lie, I wasn’t pulling on jesus' beard alone, but puh-lease, selling drugs? I got over that when I turned 21 (well technically a few days after). Things have changed a lot since then. I mean what happens in clubs these days? People enter, and pick out the most obvious looking people, the ones causing the most awe hushed spectacle with their unmitigated fabulosity and bootyliciousness, and what… they’re the ones selling drugs?? What happened to the good old days of the underdone, underdressed dealer that seemed to find you?
But even then, I mean buying drugs at the party was never really on the doorlist except in the most dire of party emergencies. That’s just not smart. I mean I know my age is showing, but really, if you can’t organize your gear before you go out, then you shouldn’t be having any. Chances are you decided against it for mental health reasons anyway. Is it my fault that hotwheels gave you a rollerection and you changed your lil mind?
>nada.
Only two nights ago, my lover and I were topping the A list, such was our hotness right now then. We were so hot that, even though we were at least a decade older than the median in-crowd age, we danced on rollerskates for 5 hours without pause (resting as best we could during the shite performances). We pulled off figure-disco moves to industrial electro with no stoppers.
Just to prove my fallibility (thus making my hotness more authentic) I took a giant stack early on, right in the middle of the 11oclock show. I have a slightly sore left flank where my ample buttock absorbed the impact.
Luckily, the performance I interrupted involved a post adolescent goth computer geek on fucktruckloads of ice. Solo, skinny and shrouded in his own inner mirror, this boy really made an impact. Just him, his ipod, and his 10 metre mike, assaulted us all with his special brand of layered amphetamine binge induced hiphop rock industrial death music with a liberal dose of loungeroom legend. The product of weeks of ProTools abuse and paranoia left the audience defensive and the performer alienated. Nothin like an Easter roller stack to enhance a lagging performance. To remind people that sure, jesus died for our sins (a metaphor for my rollerstack) but he was resserected by god (a metaphor for when some guy in a cool suit helped me up amid the laughter and possibly applause).
Obviously this only served to increase my kudies as the night wore on, and the club kids saw just how ironic it was that the second best rollerdiscerator in the room (you know who you are baby) should drop such a smackdown.
As the hours rolled on, many people arriving at the club thought we were drug dealers, and discretely approached us to buy some of whatever we were on. Even the already drugfucked guy whose performance I dropped in on had a go. It’s been a while since I was mistaken for a drug dealer. Was it the rollerskates? I guess the exhaltations of the risen Jesus just can’t be cut and snorted these days.
OK that’s a lie, I wasn’t pulling on jesus' beard alone, but puh-lease, selling drugs? I got over that when I turned 21 (well technically a few days after). Things have changed a lot since then. I mean what happens in clubs these days? People enter, and pick out the most obvious looking people, the ones causing the most awe hushed spectacle with their unmitigated fabulosity and bootyliciousness, and what… they’re the ones selling drugs?? What happened to the good old days of the underdone, underdressed dealer that seemed to find you?
But even then, I mean buying drugs at the party was never really on the doorlist except in the most dire of party emergencies. That’s just not smart. I mean I know my age is showing, but really, if you can’t organize your gear before you go out, then you shouldn’t be having any. Chances are you decided against it for mental health reasons anyway. Is it my fault that hotwheels gave you a rollerection and you changed your lil mind?
>nada.
Labels: shindigs
posted by cardboardy @ 7:33 pm
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