Crazy Girl at the Cutting Room

So, last night my friend and me went and had a New York City adventure. I’d like to say that this city is for every person who has no problems with tight claustrophobic places. Subways, restaurants, apartments, all of it. First, we went to Republic, a really great place in Union Square, it’s all communal seating (non-smoking at least) and they serve an array of noodles, the theme is “think noodles” and so that is what I thought. I had the glass noodles and chicken (and of course some sort of vegetable I discarded,) and a really great glass of merlot.

After, we went to see Julia Darling perform at the Cutting Room. There were three performers for five bucks; I was all about this show. We arrived early and took a stab at the bar (kudos to the foxy bar tender, rick? greg?). I heard someone as we were walking in. We stand at the door and there is a girl no more than 22 on stage wearing a sequins purple jacket with a furry rim around the collar and sleeves. So, she’s standing there and singing about snogging (but that’s my word for it, she wasn’t even close to using that term), about masturbation and all sorts of other terms that probably need censoring (yay tipper). So this girl was some sort of wanna-be tori amos, but in a bad way because from what I recall of Tori is that she disagrees with her sexuality selling her music, all this girl had was her sex. She was *that* girl in High School, you know, the annoying drama girl. The girl throws off her purple jacket and starts basically stripping to barely a piece of cloth. She has on a little slip dress with red sequins bullets as nipples on it and it was just so tasteless. The she left and comes back on stage with a poster of an obese black man and asks the audience what we all have in common with him, and personally I was hoping that I had nothing in common with him because she had just said he has manic depression and is schizophrenic (I knew what *she* had in common with him). This carried into a rant about “No matter how old you are, please vote.” Blah, blah blah, something about it being the last day for an absentee ballot (um, hello? are we in America?) and how we all need to get out and vote at this election so this obese man gets out of jail for killing a cocaine dealer or something to that effect. This tirade of singing, stripping, and pissing me off continued for about fifteen more minutes and off she went.

And you ask, Kristen, your point?

My point is: *that* girl is the reason we all don’t get microphones. *that* girl is the reason I may have a flamboyant personality, and why I do not get on a stage and exploit myself.

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