Last night I went to The Stranger’s 11th Annual Valentine’s Day Bash–a night where people bring treasured mementos from failed relationships and they’re destroyed onstage in a burst of healing cathartic activity.
This wasn’t my first Bash–I first attended in 2006, when I had something of my own to destroy, and it made the news.
(Sorry it’s hard to read–since LJ scrapbook is blocked, I have to use Facebook, which resizes photos. Crappily.)
Although I didn’t have anything to bring this year, it’s a show that’s always worth attending, even as just an audience member. This year, in addition to the tar-and-feathers, blowtorch, paper shredder, and sledgehammer, we had a blender, a circular saw, a machete and liquid nitrogen.
I made sure to arrive early and staked out a spot right at the stage–it’s worth the prospect of getting some feathers in your hair or sprinkled with ‘tar’ in order to see the action up close.
While I waited for the show to start, a nifty lesbian with pink hair taught me how to swing dance AND do the charleston, and I was hit on by a bald dude in a Utilikilt with braces from Edinburgh who is a…(wait for it)…pole dancing instructor. Yeeeeeeeeeah.
Anyway, the show was a blast, it’s always neat to see Dan Savage (whose column I’ve read religiously since I was 15 and he was going by ‘Hey Faggot!’ in the Shepherd Express), and since I know that my experience there REALLY helped me get past my anger and move on, I also know that I witnessed a lot of awesome people who got fucked over by assholes and heartless bitches get a fresh start in life.
How great is that?
Are you the Melissa in the article?
I am indeed.
The one who brought the comic book? Cuz, uh: Although I didn’t have anything to bring this year
That would be me.
Reconcile those two contradictory statements before my brain explodes, plz.
This is the article from two years ago, when I had something to bring.
Don’t mind me, my reading comprehension is fucked by brain cancer apparently.
aren’t brain issues great?
(i really just wanted to icon at you)
WWNPHD? He’d probably steal my fucking car, that’s what.
and bring it back with money (one hopes).
Or he could just leave one of the hookers tied up in the back seat.
Govenor Schwartezenegger (I don’t care if that’s not spelled right) has assured me it’s not a tumor.
…you’re totally kidding, right?
I hope so, but how do you tell when you can’t afford health care? XD
(Sorry it’s hard to read–since LJ scrapbook is blocked, I have to use Facebook, which resizes photos. Crappily.)
Is Photobucket blocked too? Either way, I could read just fine. A+!
That is unbelievably awesome.
OMFG that’s awesome.