The line for tonight's HIM concert ran from the door of the House of Blues, up the side street, around the corner and down Sunset for the length of five store fronts. Megan the Water Moccasin met up with me when I reached the corner and we stood there together with me trying not to laugh. I pulled out my phone and started texting.
"You know," she said. "You texting just reminded me of something."
"I'm texting you," I remarked.
She started laughing and told me the story she had started, about her and her friend text messaging each other at the Tribute to Evil show while standing two rows apart. I think this might have been worse.
A minute later, Megan got my message.
"The girls in front of us look like G.L.O.W. wrestlers."
She messaged me back.
"Four of the five are wearing the same bondage belt."
Text messaging has made shit-talking the most secretly awesome treat on the planet. Our line was so tightly packed that there was no way I could make a crack about the girl in the skin-tight leopard pants, corset top and sequined jacket or her friends in the equally hideous Frederick's of Hollywood discount rack garb. That sort of stuff needs to be discussed, if only so that we can feel better about our own basic black.
We were at House of Blues to review HIM (by the way, you can read my interview in the new issue of The Rockit). That said, I don't want to say much about the show. However, I do want to make it clear that Ville Valo is the world's coolest smoker. That guy sucks down more cigarettes in a 90 minute show than I do in an entire day (excluding days that involve clubbing). Megan and I were estimating one cigarette for every song. The amazing thing is that he still managed to sing during the entire set. If I were smoking that much on stage, I'd probably be choking on phlegm halfway through the second song. Mmmm, tasty.
Ville also has a very chic way of flicking his cigarette over his shoulder when he is done. It matches his swagger. I wish I could flick a cigarette with such finesse. I tried it once out of my car window, but it flew in through the backseat and burned my friend's ass. Totally true story.
I think Megan and I might be fullblown HIM fans. We snagged promo posters off the railing for ourselves.
Oh, and just to get back to the text messaging thing, the guy next to me, got a message during the show that Dave Chappelle was hanging out at Spaceland tonight. I'm not one for passing on celebrity sightings, but, dude, when it's Dave Chappelle, you gotta spread the word.