After some discussion, we discovered that a five-point system is, in fact, superior to our previous incarnation, a simple 1 to 10 method that now seems archaic.
Yes, we are some REAL bastards.
Just when we had settled on our criteria and pledged to follow it to the letter, we found a six. Our new scale-breaker is the vocalist for SinoSikat?, the divine Kat Agarrado. Clyde contended that, given the opportunity, he would propose marriage on the spot. I pretty much agreed.
I noted that she was a disclaimer girl, in that she was the type of person for whom one would write a disclaimer in a prenuptial agreement (e.g. “I will be faithful unless given the opportunity to perform certain actions with Scarlett Johannson, Jessica Biel or the vocalist for SinoSikat?”).
8:30 pm – SinoSikat? finishes their set. The 15-minute intermission drags on for nearly half an hour. I bet my buddy Jojo that STP frontman Scott Weiland was probably sitting in the toilet, freaking out from the heroin shakes. I also mentioned that Scott just arrived this morning at the airport, unlike his bandmates who got in the country the day before the concert.
Clyde wondered aloud why Scott doesn’t just sit in his chair and suck the shit out of his nails like a good crackhead instead of constantly acting the ass wherever he goes.
Yes Scott, why is it whenever we’re not looking, you’re sticking your hand in the bad shit jar?
9:10 pm – Scott Weiland and the rest of Stone Temple Pilots finally take the stage. I thought it was just coincidence that the air suddenly smelled of burnt rubber. It makes sense now. I honestly want to take Scott in and bathe him in bleach and boiling water. But something tells me he’s just one of those “can’t get clean” types.
Scott starts of shakily, barely hitting the high notes in “Vasoline.” But he eventually finds his voice as the show wore on, finally hitting his stride just in time for pitch perfect renditions of “Plush” and “Interstate Love Song.”
10:25 pm – Sid says that Scott Weiland doesn’t look well. Maybe my eyes have grown accustomed to his sore-y face (I should get that checked out by a doctor), but he still looks like if Helena Bonham Carter caught leprosy, got attacked by a zombie and then tried to cool her rage by drinking gallons of embalming fluid. THIS IS THE WAY HE ALWAYS LOOKS! This is the Scott I fell in love with (again, I should get that checked out by a doctor).
11:20 pm – The show finally ends after a two-song encore. Everyone knew we had just witnessed nearly 2 hours of potent fuckery. Scott was in fine form vocal-wise but what won the crowd over was his dancing like a blind, possessed, drunk and diarrhea-stricken man-lizard frantically searching for the nearest empty Port-A-Potty while trying to swat at the invisible demons around him.
Also, Scott’s shoes are to die for. They are all shades of gay, but I’m into it. Imagine those things with coochie cutters and a fur. Lovely :)
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