The Upper Crust Gave Me Herpes
Death by Party | Fuck them and fuck Hoboken and TJ Maxx too
So, the first week that we are back online, we start running the event listings again. That same week they get canceled. AGAIN. (This is like the third time) But before our corporate overlords decided to randomly shift gears AGAIN, I saw a listing and attached video for this glam rock band called the Upper Crust playing at Bowery Electric. The only thing my lovely co-worker wrote was-
“I want to get herpes from going down on a French peasant.”
Yup. That was all he said about the band. Now that’s a freaking great endorsement. I think. I thought to myself:
1. “Yeah, the members of Upper Crust DO look like they would probably have French Herpes.”
2. “It would totally be worth it to get herpes from a French peasant.”
I envisioned myself:
1. Hiking the dress up on a giggling milk maid in a hay pile and taking a tuna plunge that smelled like ripe, ripe cheese with red wine stains all over my ruffled shirt.
2. Hopping a train into the city to check out this band of dirty decadent buggers.
1. Got shit hammered at a lame loft party where everyone was talking about poetry
2. Had sloppy sex with a gross TJ Maxx clerk from Hoboken.
The reality of my evening was not nearly as cool as either of my envisioned fantasies. Now here is the clincher. I’ve got a cold sore on my dong. Yup.
Now I don’t believe in coincidences so I can only believe that Upper Crust is to blame. If the band hadn’t made James think of herpes, then I wouldn’t have thought of herpes and fate wouldn’t have made me take home some Jersey girl who won’t stop texting me, even after I accused her of giving me… herpes. So in parting I just want to say, FUCK YOU UPPER CRUST.