Monday, October 4, 2010

Care for an Eisgekühlter Bommerlunder?

Last night I went to see Die Toten Hosen play at the very same club where only a few weeks ago this cute little supposedly lesbo chick almost threw up on me (and where only a few days ago they held some sort of religious holiday event, which should explain the lingering acrid stench of BO and jizz), and it was so overwhelmingly awesome that I just have to write something about it while my ears are still happily ringing. The Israeli opening band sucked major balls as expected and sounded like Green Day on a bad day (and Green Day are pretty terrible even on their bestest of days) and their total douche of a lead singer mispronounced Die Toten Hosen three times (he pronounced the word 'die' the way one would in English, not German), but the actual show was nothing short of incredible. They played all my favorite songs and their energy was pretty amazing for dudes in their late 40s, especially Campino, who kept jumping around climbing over stuff and handing out water bottles and beer to anyone who was close enough to the stage. They also played a bunch of cover songs, like Blur's Song 2, a couple of Clash ones and even a Beatles song which in their version did not suck even one tiny bit! And the best part about the show? Most of the people there were German! Real live Germans! I almost didn't hear any Hebrew the entire evening! It was really fun seeing how real, normal people act at a real concert, with all the singing and chanting and pogo dancing, but most of all I enjoyed watching how prettily German chicks can dance when they're drunk. Seriously, the only way some of these fine young ladies could have possibly looked any hotter was if they had my balls in their neatly lipsticked little mouths. It's a good thing the men's room was so gross there, so I was never once tempted to lock myself in one of those smelly little stalls and relieve myself of the kind of throbbing, unwanted tension that could only be inspired by the presence of so many ridiculously cute chicks who are fluent in my grandmother's native tongue. And I even got to touch Campino! You know how sometimes you're in a public place, like a bus or something, and whenever people walk by you try to make yourself as small as possible so as to not make any physical contact with them, but when a really cute chick comes by you just don't, so she pretty much has to lightly rub up against you? Well apparently that creepy little trick works quite well with middle aged German rock stars too. Awesome. I never should have thrown that shirt to the laundry, as smelly as it may have been. Oh well. I still don't really understand why the band chose to perform in Tel-Aviv of all places on the 20th anniversary of the unification of Germany, but I couldn't be happier that they did. Now all I need to do is try to get that nasty cigarette smell out of my stupid hair. Yuck.

Want to be touched by the hand that touched a shirtless Campino? Call now!

Update: the following photo now appears on the official Die Toten Hosen website, and I'm totally in it! Hooray!!!

Hint: I'm the dude with the ugly all over his face

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