So Bif Naked
is lying across my face and…
Wait, let me back up a bit.
This weekend was fanTAStic. Can we say that together? The emphasis on the second syllable is important. Say it with me now, the weekend was fanTAStic.
Went to the Bif Naked concert at Coyotes last night. Tammy called me up halfway through the day and offered me a spare ticket. I told her “yes” but secretly waffled about it. I’m finding lately that jumping on “yes” is as good a tactic as any to get past my apathy. First say “yes” *then* spend hours waffling about whether or not you really want to go. And if you find you really don’t, then you can call up an cancel with prolific apologies.
So I waffled, as I was tired and had already had my fill of “Lots Of People” the night before. I wasn’t sure I was in an appropriate mood for dealing with a smoky, crowded bar. Honestly, all I wanted to do was nap the whole day away. Plus I knew Bif herself wouldn’t get on stage until eleven and likely would play ’til one, and I had work in the morning.
I called Ronya, told her of the invite and my wafflization… Ronya called me an idiot, advised me I wasn’t *that* old yet, and told me to go, reminding me that I will have plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead.
That’s Ronya for you.
So I went. Met up with Tammy and her friends at Tammy’s place, left my truck there and took a cab downtown. It was just after seven and the bar was still half empty, and we knew Bif wasn’t going to be on for quite a while, so we walked a few blocks over to the Vietnam Restaurant for some iced coffee and spring rolls.
Mmmm… spring rolls.
Arriving back at the bar we found (much to our complete Non Surprise) that all tables and other good spots were taken and being jealously guarded. So, knowing we weren’t going to be sitting anyway, We grabbed a few drinks and threaded our way to the stage.
By the way, I know drink prices are inflated during Stampede, but DAMN. I ordered a double rum & coke for myself and some kinda beer for Tammy. I handed the waitress a twenty and got back three bucks in change. From that point on I kept a nervous hand on my wallet, never having known thieves to be quite THAT bold.
No kiss, no lube, no reach-around. Just a burning, bleeding hole and a few coins left in my pocket. Ouch.
We stood at the front of the stage, dead center. There were a couple of people in front of us but that was it. I spent the rest of the night about three feet from the stage.
It was damned hot an close in that bar. They had a huge window open at the back of the stage, which I was thankful for. An occasional breeze would waft through. They closed that window before Bif came on, though, and in my mind I shouted “NNNnnnoooooo!”. The place was already near body temperature as it was.
We’d skipped all the other opening bands but managed to park in front of the stage in time for Crop Circle, a group I’ve never heard of but one that a friend of Tammy’s was apparently very familiar with. She knew all the words to “Mexican Cock Fight”, which I believe is their hit single, and she was so exuberant in her participation with the band that the lead singer came by after their set and awarded her with their CD signed by all members of the band. The fact that she was bouncing like a pogo stick and kept falling out of her bodice may have contributed to her appeal.
The lead singer of Crop Circle was quite enthused about the crowd and the crowd’s reactions. He could also tell the place was just cooking. At one point he handed out a large (2 liter?) bottle of water to the people in the front and instructed them to pass it around. It never reached me but I probably would have passed on it anyway.
The girls were completely unashamed in their reasons for inviting me and John (the only other male in our group) along: we were creep deterrent and crowd guard. John and I were okay with blocking any guys trying to push their way through, but we were pathetic at stopping any girls. It’s okay, though, as the ladies in our group were more than capable of elbowing female invaders out of way themselves. And, quite honestly, I didn’t want to get involved.
The last time I saw Bif Naked was also at Coyotes, and when we were there we hated the acoustics of the place. We could never understand what the hell Bif was singing, or what she was saying between tunes. I found the solution for that this time, though: earplugs. With earplugs filtering out the residual noise all around me all I heard was the music and her vocals. There were still times when I had trouble understanding some of the words, but for the most part I heard everything much better. Even conversations.
I’ve always had a horrible time understanding what people were trying to say to me in a noisy bar. With the earplugs in I could understand them perfectly. So it wasn’t that my hearing was bad, it was that I wasn’t able to filter out the surrounding noise well enough. Not a big surprise, really. Now I just have to remember to pack along earplugs when we next go out clubbing.
The earplugs allowed me to hear the girl behind me comment on how I seemed to have the broadest shoulders of any guy in the crowd, and could she please sit on them. I declined as politely as I could. I was already blocking the view for people enough as it was.
I was grateful for those same shoulders, and the strength of my legs, later on when some pricks decided to mosh. There’d been a warning at the start of the concert that, for safety reasons, moshing and stage diving weren’t allowed. Anyone doing so would be ‘removed’ from the club without refund. People still tried, though, and I got an idea of what tide breakers must feel like when the tide starts coming in. The pressure even hit me in waves.
Security was quick and efficient, though. They’d quickly grab the biggest offender and you’d see nothing more of him past the retreating backs of some huge red security shirts. It took them a while to identify the prime offender, though. I think it was female, but it was hard to tell. It could have been male, but it was damned tiny whatever it was, and damned ugly. And damned insistent on moshing regardless of what people around it wanted. I have to give it credit, though, it could definitely push hard. Damn near unset me a couple of times. As soon as security removed it, though, the moshing stopped and the rest of us could go back to enjoying the concert.
Bif is apparently in the studio this year putting together a new album that’ll be released in January. (why they don’t go for a christmas release is kind of beyond me, but what do I know?) The upshot of this is that we got to hear a lot of new tunes and, as she herself said, they’re “a tad angrier” than her previous album. And, as she said, there are love songs, and there are hate songs, but she’s got one on there that’s a pure “fuck me” song.
Yes, I’ll be picking up the new album.
The view from the floor was, shall we say, spectacular. Bif literally hung over us at times, and did it often. I now have an even better appreciation of just how well built she is. And while I may have had an excellent view I’m not sure it could compare with the guy in front of me who probably knows the brand name and size of her jeans now. Yowza.
At one point in the show she mentioned she’d studied ballet for 13 years, and I believe it. Thank god ballet didn’t become her life’s obsession, though.
Halfway through the concert I was struck with an idea. In a sad parody of a cell phone commercial I hit the speed dial button for Colin. I tried to get each of his favorite songs, especially
“I Love Myself Today”. Unfortunately, since I have no idea what the sound quality was like, or how long he actually listened, I probably just irritated the hell out of the poor guy.
I can just hear him now: “Why the fuck does Joel keep calling me, and what the fuck is all that noise in the background?”
I recalled that, at the last Bif concert at Coyotes, Bif had walked out onto the crowd with the help of some lucky, broad shouldered guy in the front row. I admit, I had fantasies of her doing the same, with me being her main support. However, since I wasn’t at the very edge of the stage, and wasn’t going to force my way through the people to get there, I figured the fantasy would go unrealized.
Bif had other ideas. During their last tune, the ever fun cover of “We’re Not Going To Take It” by Twisted Sister, Bif either shared the shoulder girl’s assessment of me or she remembered me from the gym. Either way she chose that moment to launch herself from the stage and right onto me.
Well, to be fair, she hit about three of us, but her back and shoulders firmly impacted my chest and shoulders. Ever the eloquent and witty fellow, I greeted her and introduced myself with a succinct and efficient “Unf!”. Small she may be, but she still smacked into me pretty hard.
It took me a second to realize what had just happened, and I had just enough time to get my hands under her and, together with the crowd around me, lift her up and back onto the stage.
With that, the night ended. The band left the stage (that had already been their encore) and we made for the doors as quickly as we could. We were hot, tired, and wired. We needed to get out into the night air. And most of us had to work in the morning so we wanted to get home as quickly as we could.
The crowd moved swiftly but nobody was taking the taxis for some reason. Within a minute or two of having Bif on my shoulder (And her hair in my face. I doubt I actually had the presence of mind to notice at the time, but in my mind I like to think it smelled nice.) we were packed into the back of a taxi and on our way home.
The girls all agreed they had to take me to all their concerts from now on. For one thing I make a good mosh and / or creep deterrent. For another, apparently I’m big enough to inspire lead singers to dive off the stage with confidence.
Sometimes being big is good.
So now, of course, if I ever do meet Bif Naked in the gym again I’m going to have to introduce myself as the shoulder she impacted into at her show during the 2004 Stampede at Coyotes. It might not be enough to actually identify me, as I’m sure she does hundreds of shows a year, but at least I’ll have something more to thank her for.
The rest of the weekend was equally entertaining, but in different ways.
Friday after work I went out to Limericks with some co-workers where I got into a contest with Mike ( the Dargie) on how to best start a conversation at a bar. Things like “So I was fisting this girl the other day…” were bandied about. Oddly enough, I wasn’t drinking.
From there I drove out, picked up Colin, and we retired to Mav and Tony’s place for a night of teabagging action. One night, several months ago, Tony and I set Michael up while he was away in the bathroom. We created a profile called “TeaBagBitch” and started the game up just as he got out of the bathroom. The next time he wound up dead the game merrily told him that he, TeaBagBitch, had been killed.
Well *we* thought it was funny. Nobody ever claimed to be mature in that group.
On Friday we tried to do it again, but he didn’t take as long in the bathroom this time so he caught me red handed in the act of setting up the GloryHole profile.
Yeah, uh, look it up if you want. I’m not even going to link that one.
At that point the group decided that we’d switch over to team scenarios, and whichever team lost would have to switch to using the TeaBagBitch and GloryHole profiles until they won again. Oh, and the winner got to pick the next game.
I was picking most of the games all night. Hee.
Yes, dammit, I’m bragging. I gotta be good at *something*.
Saturday was, of course, the barbecue party at our house. Ronya, miss “there’s 24 useful hours in every day”, got off of night shift at 7am and drove into town for the day. She left again shortly after midnight as she had to check in for day shift at 7am on Sunday. Now you understand why she was so unsympathetic to my protestations of being tired on Sunday.
The party went very well. I had a great time and I believe everyone else did too. It was a smaller group again this year, due mostly to people having other commitments. That’s quite alright, though. I’m getting fond of these smaller and slightly more intimate gatherings. I’m learning more and more that I’m not much of a crowd person.
I met some new people as well this year. I met Ralph’s new girlfriend who’s name, if I remember correctly, is Rachel. I could be wrong, though. I have such a shitty memory for names. I believe she’s on livejournal as Zephyra and is the one responsible for creating the poly_calgary community. We chatted at length about how small the world is as we keep encountering people in other venues who are already connected by mutual acquaintances.
I also met a couple who’s names have already escaped me. I’m sorry, but not only did I only did I only hear their name once but I was playing a video game with Kiegan at the time. At least I think it was Kiegan.
They were a very nice couple, though, and commented on how they only knew me by reputation. And apparently that reputation was all good. They said I was the only person they’d ever heard of for whom nobody had a negative thing to say.
I gotta wonder who the hell they were talking to. Obviously nobody who knows me all that well. 🙂
I wore my kilt all day Saturday. Very comfy. I would have worn it to the Bif Naked concert too but I had to put it in the wash. There were hand prints all over the back of it.
Sunday afternoon was spent picking up. A couple of bags of garbage, a couple of bags of bottles, and a whole kitchen load of dishes. I was surprised to discover we didn’t use every single plate in the cupboard this year. Definitely a smaller gathering.
This was definitely a weekend I need a couple of work days to recover from, though. I didn’t get to bed until some time after 2 on Friday and forced myself out of bed relatively early on Saturday to clean up the basement (Phil and Lisa graciously cleaned the upstairs) and prep the deck and back yard for the party. Saturday I was up past two again waiting for Ronya’s phone call from Brooks. After that I was up every couple of hours to pee. It was bizarre. I can only assume some alien conspiracy was teleporting liquid into my bladder as I’m positive no human could have consumed that much in one night. Heck, I know for a fact I still had some Dr. Pepper left over at the end of the night. All the rum was gone, though, and that troubled me a bit. I distinctly remember there being two bottles of the stuff, and I think I was the only one drinking it.
Sunday night was Bif, of course, and I didn’t get home until after one. I was too wired to sleep for at least an hour and instead spent the time scribbling little notes for this journal entry.
I don’t think I’m going to be recovered on my sleep until Wednesday or so.