The other night Cannabis Corpse needed someone volunteer their bag of bones and wear the giant weed bud costume and thrash around in the crowd. So I did. The costume smelled of many many many men, and beer, and scrotum, and more beer and MORE scrotes. I was so anxious to rocket myself into the evening, gender ambiguity aflame, freak flag flying free. But, I forgot one lesson I should have wisely recalled from an embarrassingly brutal moment for me at a Suffocation show last July. I will teach this lesson to my children.
A death metal crowd will injure you. You will bleed. You will be punched in the stomach. You will be groped. And, not just groped, but groped with a twisting grip which aims to bruise. Your eyes are for jabbing, your whole entire self is meant for a slamming and a beat-down. Ouchy.
And that's exactly what I got. I ran into the crowd inside this giant bud-o-weed costume like a pudgy baby running after bubbles in the air. Super totally not not not death metal. I figured I was "kind bud," so I began to hug everybody. But men didn't know I was a woman in there. That is when the mauling began. Immediately after I delivered the first hug my body was grabbed from the back and I felt myself swing uncontrollably off the ground. I tried to run away but I couldnt see, and then someone grabbed me at the waist and my feet were off the floor and I was heading backward. I was starting to think about how my vagina could land on sharp objects. I assume this was better than visiting an S & M club or a spanking party or something. Come to think of it, I totally want to go to a friggn S & M club or a spanking party. Finally, I broke through the crowd and ran for safety, ripping at the costume, gasping for breath.
The moral of this story is that I totally cannot hang. I guess from now on I should not do what dudes do. I should wake up like a real lady for a latte and some yoga tomorrow morning. Maybe turn it up a notch and pop an Adderall and insert some Ben Wa balls. Wait, is that what those gals are doing?