ratsonjulia

actual 100% irony-free, deadpan conversation early this morning at the prison:

me: When's your band playing next?

J: We're playing a kind of strange wedding tonight at the Outpost.

me: Strange? You mean, like, cousins?

J: The Flaming Titty Girl.

me: The....?

J: Flaming Titty Girl. She comes to all of our shows, lifts her shirt & puts lit matches into her nipples &...spins them?

me: The nipples?

J: The matches.

me: Oh.

J: Which are in her nipples.

me: Oh.

J: Her nipples are pierced.

me: I guessed that.

J: Anyway, she's getting married.

me: Is she going to...twirl...at the wedding?

J: Probably.

me: Ah.
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footnote: The fact that she goes to "all the shows" isn't so much indicative of obsessiveness, as it is that this is the only band in town. No others. Not even-just-passing-thru-luvs-&-thought-we'd-grab-a-sandwich-mangy-type-traveling-bands-that-shoot-each-other-with-beanbag-guns-for-fun-type bands. Not a one. So where's MY freakin parade?