New Outfit Time.

I'm a poor college student, but I'm willing to drop a pretty penny on the perfect outfit for this special occasion. What occasion, might you ask? The Metallica concert.....hellllllll fucking yesssss! The last time Metallica played in Chicago was almost five years ago, and my parents wouldn't let me go to the concert, not because of their music, but because of the people I wanted to go with. I was a little outraged, but I was patient. And now the time has finally come for me to see my favorite band live. When I found out about the concert, I immediately started asking some of my close friends to go with me. "Metallica? I don't even like them." "I'm not going to spend that much money on a concert." "That sounds like it will give me a headache." These responses made me question why I was friends with these people. I looked at them with shock and disgust. I tried to persuade them with a simple, "But...it's fucking Metallica!" I wasn't successful in my persuasion.

I tried to understand where they were coming from. They probably didn't have a childhood like mine in relation to the music that they listened to. The first song that I ever loved to the point that I had to listen to it everyday was "Big Balls" by AC/DC. There I was, in pigtails and a pink sweat suit outfit (all the rage in those days), singing "I've got big balls, they're such big balls, and they're dirty big balls, and he's got big balls, and she's got big balls." My parents laughed delightedly when I'd sing in front of their friends, so I just assumed that everyone loved that song because it rocked so fucking hard. I was five and I knew that it rocked.

As I got older, my parents introduced me to Guns 'n Roses, Motley Crue, Jimi Hendrix, Van Halen (dad's favorite), Prince (...mom's favorite...don't ask), Rush, Journey, Aerosmith, Bob Seger, so many bands and artists that rocked. Very few of my friends ever liked my taste in music besides my best friend, who had very similar parents. Before basketball and softball games, I'd listen to Iron Maiden, Metallica, Judas Priest, anything that I could get pumped with. Some of the girls would tap me on the shoulder and ask for a listen and I would happily oblige, hoping to broaden their musical horizons. They'd put the headphone over their ears and I'd press play on my portable CD player. Their eyes would usually (not always) bulge open and quickly take the headphones off and hand them back to me. "What is that? Goth music? That's scary....don't you have another CD?"

No bitch, I don't. No bitch, it's not goth music, what the fuck is goth music anyway, Marilyn Manson? I'm not fond of his work, but I don't label everyone that listens to his music as goth. I didn't care that they didn't like my music because I knew it was classic.

In fact, the first time I ever gave a guy a blow job, it was to the sound of "Paranoid" by Black Sabbath. I looked up at him with his cock in my mouth and smiled with my eyes. Well, he must totally deserve this BJ because he's a Sabbath fan, right? Well, that's what I told myself. That and he was hot. After we were done, I complimented his choice of music. He looked at me and asked if I knew the band's name, perhaps figuring that I was just making small talk. Duh. I answered correctly and his mouth dropped a little as he inquired into what other bands I liked. As I listed them off, he kept nodding emphatically. "You're, like, the coolest chick evvvvvver." I know, sweetie. I give good head and I like metal...a great combination for a sixteen year old guy whose idea of rebelling is to sneak booze to football games and then get some action on the living room couch before his mom comes home from her job at the hospital.

I still pretty much like the same music, although I do have some other favorites, too. Like Bach. No, I don't mean Sebastian Bach (who I hear has a small dick). I mean Johann Sebastian Bach. I like Antonio Vivaldi, some Mozart, and Irish fiddle music. I like Bob Marley and Christina Aguilera, and sometimes when I'm feeling really pissed, Alanis Morissette. But my heart will always be with metal and classic rock.

So, about that outfit I mentioned above....I'm thinking stiletto boots, tight jeans, a black fitted t-shirt, and big sex hair. The concert might be so awesome and rock so hard that I will experience immaculate conception and birth James Hetfield's fourth child...I'm just throwing that out there now.