Skirt lifter

I used to hate Ja Rule. I mean really hate him. I thought he was a talentless, annoying dickhead. But this afternoon I realised something had changed.

Mr Rule was doing an instore signing appearance at the Sounds megastore on Queen Street. I rushed over from the Mind Control Cult (OMG, today I revealed to everyone that in five years time I want ho’s in different area codes) and stood in line with a bunch of mostly teenage girls. It was a long wait, but we had the entertainment of a car hitting a pedestrian and the arrival of an ambulance. But just when the line was beginning to move forward, a guy came out and made a really insincere, uncaring announcement that no more people would be allowed inside, but, you know, Ja Rule would be informed that there were a large number of his fans sending their love.

I was bitterly disappointed. I wanted Ja Rule to sign my “Last Temptation” CD.

Wait. What the hell? How did I end up with a Ja Rule CD?

(His last CD, “Pain is love” had a pretentious but true title. “Last Temptation” is so incredibly pretentious. He’s totally, undeniably comparing himself to Jesus Christ, but would Jesus ever rap lyrics like “I got a fetish for fucking you with your skirt on”? Actually, regarding that lyric, does Ja Rule mean that he wants to fuck his lady while she is wearing a skirt, or does he mean that he gets off on wearing her skirt? I think the latter.)

Ok, so I was bitterly disappointed and trudging along High Street. I mean, I hadn’t even seen him. I passed by Little High Street (a.k.a a dead-end alley) and notice a few teenage girls gathered around a couple of parked vehicles. Ah, the rear entrance!

So I lingered around the entrance of the World store waiting for Ja Rule to appear. One of the girls near me was talking to a friend on her cell phone. She didn’t want her friend to know where she was, but then discovered that her friend had managed to get in the store. “Oh my God! What did you say to him? Did he said say anything to you? Did you touch him?!”

From what I heard, the most common conversation in the record store went like this:

Excited fan: Hi! What’s up?
Ja Rule: Wassup.
Excited fan: Ok, thanks!

Soon two police officers arrived and made me and the teenagers move out onto the footpath. A security guard said not to jump out in front of any of the cars because you might get run over. But, y’know, it would totally be worth it.

Then there was vehicular movement. The first vehicle drove past. It looked like it was mostly entourage, the Murder Inc crew. The guy in the front passenger seat was filming all the screaming girls (oh yeah, they were screaming). Then the second vehicle passed. Ja Rule was in the front passenger seat! OMG OMG OMG! It was actually pretty thrilling, even though he was just sitting there looking bored and/or tired. He looked at me. In the back of the vehicle there were two women, probably part of his tour posse, i.e. not groupies. “Who are those girls?!” one of the teenaged girls demanded. She and her friends started running after the vehicles, presumably after Ja Rule, not the women.

My copy of “Last Temptation” remains unsigned.

– Frontside Grind and Paselode at the King’s Arse
FG are bogans, and they played to a much larger audience than was there, y’know. They rock way more than the nu-rock clones. Paselode had a few technical problems, but were ok. They shouldn’t be jaded about playing “Uppin’ The Ante”. Their lead singer kept grabbing his crotch and then stuck his hand down his pants, and I thought that was a) way more authentic than grabbing it and b) really hot.

– Dean at the Paradis karaoke bar
Yes, yes, yes, yes. Self-indulgent, but not disrespectful to the audience.

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