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Strange events and stranger people. Updates from rock 'n' roll dystopia brought to you by the band Lazy 8.

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The Rocklog of Lazy 8
Saturday, May 04, 2002  
Saturday 3rd May

The Dwarf Incident And Some Gigs.

Wow! It's been a while. Hi! Lazy 8 are just plugging away on the gigs round Melbourne and planning our recording and touring for the next year. We've had some great gigs since the last update. All at the Railway Hotel. God I love that venue! Aaron (the booker) showed us his Mr Horse tattoo ("Call the police...") and then the spanking ensued. This has become a theme of our last few appearances there. Also the wrestling. Caz (The Bentleys' cellist) and I had a bit of a girly wrestle. Then I had a wrestle with the lovely Amy. We decided to get my bassplayer Tim involved and it ended with us fucking his shoulder by trying to pin him. He's a wiry bugger and has more strength than he seems to...

The shows so far have been us supporting The Bentleys including our most recent gig, a really surreal night at The Laundry in Fitzroy. The night started with a... start when we discovered we were advertised in the street press as playing from 8-11. News to us! A quick phonecall confirmed that we were indeed playing early coz of the "DJ's we told you about". Uh, **NO**! It's not musicians putting a wedge between dance and rock, baby!

We won a 'reprieve' and started when *we* had advertised, each band cutting down to half hour sets. We pulled 50 people on Anzac Eve (an Aussie tradition where everyone has a public holiday to get drunk coz of the war veterans). We played bad and our engineer Lucy did the best she could with irregular foldback and wooly FOH.
So, not our best gig then...

I meet and greet while The Bentleys soundcheck. A boy at the back who just came because it's The Laundry declines my offer of being on our mailing list and instead gives me his phone number saying "I saw you dancing on stage for me. You're sexy. I'm the Mouth of The South. You want a manager? Call me." Riiiiiiiight!

The Bentleys finished after being told off by the manager and a DJ, and the night then got weird! Talcum powder on the floor, old-school hip hop on the turntables, bogans dancing badly. Me, Lucy, Naz and Cheryl decided to show these folk how to dance. 'White Lines', 'Kiss', not enough adrenaline to dance well so we dance as strangely as we can, showing off our 'best' moves. Throw a few shapes at some boys who decide they can have more. Tell them it's purely social. So far so normal. The dwarf comes over and starts spinning round the floor looking up and mouthing "ladies! ladies! ladies!"

He sniffs Lucy's crotch as his first order of business with us. Lucy is, frankly, amazed. We all think it's weird but it's been a weird night so we all go with this. Lucy goes to the bar and feels a wet thing on her arm. The Dwarf, pashing her elbow, and "pash" is the only appropriate word for it. This begins to freak her and she returns to the safety of the gang.

As we dance, our new best friend joins us and blows a raspberry on Naz's belly. She obliges, coz she's game, by blowing one back. We dance around him for *our* enjoyment. This seems to incite him as he grabs me, and pulling me close, whispers "Will you fuck me?" "No. I'm with that man at the bar," I say. "Will you talk to me, then?" he asks. "Yes," I say, "I'll talk to you and I'll dance with you." We boogie for mere moments when he lurches toward me again and growls urgently "If you were a real lady, you'd be really sexy. But you work, and I hate that!"

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight! I'm not a real lady? I work and he doesn't like it?? WTF? He's off by the bar now, evidently pissed off at my non-reality. I check with Lucy to see if she can make sense of it all. 'HE THINKS YOU'RE A PROSTITUTE! YOU "WORK" = WORKING GIRL!!!!!!!" Arrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhh! We scream.

HEY! One dance does not a sexual encounter make, little person. Bad gig, weird boys, daggy dancing. It's nearly too much for my little brain. I want to go home. We're lugging the gear down their back stairs and the manager drops by. "Yeah, yeah, The Bentleys. Grreat band. Good sound. I like you. Call me." He notices me standing there. "Oh you're with those Lazy Eighters, aren't you?" I smile.. and nod, "What did you think of us?" I ask. Stupidly. " were... nice, OK." He leaves. THE END.

4:20 AM

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