My Adventures at The Jimmy Kimmel Show

I didn’t get to meet Ashtanga Yoga Booty, but I’m sort of happy about that.  I was in a mood of sorts and I probably would have creeped him the phuck out.   So anyways, it was me and my little sissy and my older sissy at the show.  Older sissy was never an Interpol fan, so this was bound to be interesting.   She was real pissed about having to stand in line especially after working all day.   We waited in line about two and half hours but it was fine because there’s a Coffee Bean around the corner and that mess is delicious.

Anyway, standing in line wasn’t so bad!  The band came out and did sound check and it was very easy peering through the fence.   The band was not happy about the sound check process by the way.  Paul sounded irritated, and Sam looked pissed off pretty much the whole time.  But enough about that.  When they finally let us into the performance area, we had to stand up outside in the pit (a glorified parking lot, really) and watch a screen with the Jimmy Kimmel show being taped live in the building next door.

Sorry, but that shit was boring as hell.  I like Jimmy Kimmel and all, but that was the worst episode ever.  Ray Liotta and Jack Lalanne.  Um, no phucking thanks!  You know what would have been a good show?  Orlando Bloom, Shemar Moore, Michael Fassbender, and Interpol!  Ha.  Oh, and Stella found us.  Stella!   I was so worried she wasn’t going to make it.  Glad she did!

When Interpol finally came on after some asinine sketch involving Uncle Frank and Guerimo (how the hell do you spell his name?) and Vitamin Water, everyone turned into stupid arses and started pushing and shoving to get closer to the stage.

Here’s a clip of the performance in case you missed it.  They actually sounded much better live.  They played three songs after the recorded one and they all sounded really good.

By the way, it was very unfortunate that Banksy never  even looked at me.  But something else really  beautiful happened — Carrrrlos D. made eyes at me!   Woot!  Like, for five seconds.  Bytch has pretty eyes.

Anyways, like I said, no Banksy meeting.  I’m too much of a coward (boo hoo) to try to get a picture or a handshake (or a hug).  Or maybe I just don’t really want to, though.   I’m weird.  For those of you who think that Banksy is 5’10 – 5’11, you are prob seriously wrong.  I’m a pretty good judge of height and stuff and he’s probably 5’9 tops.   Sorry to burst your bubbles.  What’s wrong with 5’9 though?  Nothing.  He’s still the man!  His little bomber jacket was hot.  Damn, is he skinny, though.

I’m rambling!  If you have questions, just ask okay?  Bye.

* Here’s some random ass pics of Carlos D.   I think I have a crush on Carlos D. now, by the way.  Ha Ha.