PSYCHO CHAR

… GEORGE CLINTON AND THE PARLIAMENT FUNKADELIC…

APPARENTLY… They were in TOWN LAST WEEK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do you know how hard it is to see my most favorite classic funk bands live in concert anymore?! People are getting old, retiring, passing away, breaking up, families… I’m lucky that IF they do concerts, a majority of them happen pretty close to me (New York, Detroit). I’m pretty giddy STILL that I was able to go two years ago to see the P-Funk, and Morris Day and the Time. I would love to see Fatback or Gap Band, you should even see their webite… NOT with the times at all, and tour dates are ancient! So that’s what I’m saying!! If George Clinton is still alive and his rainbow dreads are still groovin… I GOTTA BE THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

One of the most insane moments in life. And by that, I don’t just mean the actual event was super crazy effing bombtastically NUTS… I was… not all there… Insane in the membrane. (Just a tidge.)

As written on February 26, 2008:

Disclaimer: I apologize to all the people who encountered me yesterday over the phone, or in person. I have never in my life seen myself act in such a manner. I truly believe I lost all sanity and became psychologically unstable for the whole afternoon. I am utterly embarrassed and hope to Mohammed Ali that you never have to see that side of me, that I never have to see that side of me, ever, AGAIN.

This is how it all began:

Yesterday at around four o’clock in the afternoon I received a phone call from a friend in Vancouver. “Char?” “Heeelow Jenny. Wus up meng? Duuude, aren’t you online? Save some money and talk to me over msn.” “I just called to tell you that Parliament is in Toronto. They’re having a concert today.” *This is the starting point of Psycho CHAR*
“SHUT UP! SHUUUUTTT UP! ARE YOU SERIOUS? WHERE?? WHAT TIME!! WHERE CAN I GET TICKETS??! ARE THERE STILL TICKETS??! I HAVE TO GO. JENNO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND I HAVE TO GO!!”

(For those of you who don’t know, and suck monkey balls, Parliament Funkadelic — George Clinton, like the bloody godfather of FUNK, are a band from the 70’s… they’re freaking SIIICCKK. Download if you know wus good for you.)

At this point, I searched the internet for an HOUR trying to figure out where the heck I could buy tickets. Ticketmaster.ca, you are soooo unhelpful!!! All the while, Jenno is on msn trying to help me find these bloody tickets, I’m yelling at her through CAPS LOCK and at the same time, literally yelling in my house, all by myself, to myself… yelling. I’ve never seen such behaviour.

FINAALLLYYY I get through to figuring out where I could buy tickets, called them up and asked if they had anymore. “Last I checked, we had like, thirteen or something. But he stop selling at like 7.” It was six. I literally ran to my room, put on clothes and booked it out of my house to the bus station. I was a mad woman — pushing through people on the subway, being snappy towards poor Shoppers Drug Mart girl… I’m disgusted with myself. FINALLY I get there, ask the annoyingly passive employee of Sunrise Records if they had any more tickets and she carelessly says, “I don’t think so.” CAN YOU CHECK?! WUS WRONG WITH YOU?! I study her face for an answer, then she looks back at me and says, “You want two?”

MUTHER FREAKING HELL YES. Chopped my visa like it was a flush.

This is where it all went downhill… resulting in even more Psycho CHAR.

I called literally, every person I knew in Toronto. I even dialed 416-400-JOSH, okayy!! Only to grow angrier with every, “I’m busy. I can’t. I have a project. I have a test. I’m working.” GAY! SOOO GAY!!! YOUUU’RREEEEE GAY! I don’t think you understand, IDIOT. I just bought you a ticket for FREE. SEE George CLINTON…. I hate you.

I came home… crying. You don’t know how much pride I had to swallow just to admit that. Les is trying to calm me down, thinking that it’s something more than the concert that was upsetting me. The reason why I REALLY wanted to get off the phone, was because I was actually crying over Parliament. I didn’t want you to have to see me in my moment of extreme weakness; I was pathetic. WHO cries over that? I didn’t want to be a loser going all by myself. That’s soooo loserish.

Jenno calls me. I’m crying. Del calls me. I’m crying. Life sucks, emo Char.

Del yells at me to get my act together and to just go because I know I will regret it. I’m a crying fool. “JUST GO!!! You’ll REGRET IT!!” “NOO!! LEAVE ME ALONE!” “SERIOUSLY… just go.” “NO!” “Ohhhh my gosh. Are you serious? You’re not going to go? Just GO.” “… FINNEEE!! IM GOING. BYE!!”

I wipe my tears. Fix my face. Put on clothes. Leave my house. Ipod set on all Parliament songs… TIME to get pumped baayyybaayyyy.

I get to College Station and check times for the next arriving street car. A voice appeared out of nowhere, “Excuse me, is this going eastbound?” “YUH. Where you trying to go?” “Sherbourne.” I turn around and look at this extremely white and uncultured (Sorry, Will. I judged you.) white boy, and his band of white brothers. “Are you going to a concert?” “Yeah.” “PARLIAMENT?” “Yeah!” “SHUT UP ME TOO!!!!!!!!!!” and then I slip in the “Do any of you guys still need a ticket?” Which SOMEONE DOESS!!! Sweeeet. NOT a waste of $45 bucks!!

Next thing you know, Char is big pimpin, surrounded by like five guys who all turn out to be musicians from Humber College (suuper dope!). Not only do I attain NON-lonerish status, but huge body guards to block out crazy sweaty hippies dancing in circles!

What happens the rest of the night… is unforgettable. Ain’t no party like a p-funk party cause the p-funk party DON’T STOP!!!! Non stop dancing for three and half hours, insaannneee guitar solos, sax solos, EVERYBODY DOES A SICK SOLO, fifty year old black man wearing a towel diaper… super homo sensual dancer doing yoga poses, the emcee saying rands with his bassy sexy voice… and BEST OF ALL… George Clinton walking out in the LRG Dead Serious hoody… HAHAHAHA. I DIED! I DIED! And went to Funk heaven!!!

Not only was I extremely stoked I went, I made new buddies to go to live concerts with. *Nods her head* I freaken saw George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic, SON. *bullet, bulllet*

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The moral of the story is — DONT EVER TELL CHAR THAT PARLIAMENT IS IN TOWN, EVER, AGAIN. Unless you want to see Psycho, crying fool… and you don’t. I SURE DON’T.

=)
I’ve spoken my piece.
PEACE!

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