Yesterday, John and I were in f.y.e. (formerly Strawberries) in the Blackstone plaza. While John was paying for some cd's, I walked over to look at the list of upcoming shows. I mentioned something about Type O & Sevendust at the Palladium and then we both saw I.C.P. at the Palladium listed at the bottom. John said, "Oooh, I can go and get soaked in Faygo!"
About that time, the guy who had just paid for his things (a thirty-something, balding blond hair that had been dyed black but too long ago because the blond roots were showing, skinny, short, buck-toothed, pimply-faced loser in black parachute pants with chains) said, "Dude, watch it, don't dis them, I'm a wicked juggalo dude."
I say, "Oh, really?" He said, "Yeah, really." I said (in the most condescending tone I could muster), "I'm sorry." He said, "That's okay." and walked out. He was outside on his phone when we left..probably calling in the circus to beat us up.
Anyways.
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