Suicide Girls show not worth killing for

By: Aaron Sakulich

Posted: 6/25/04

Despite being one of the most eloquent people ever to walk the earth, I sometimes have trouble understanding the meanings of basic words. On such word is "burlesque." Up until June 18, I thought it involved food, like a smorgasbord. So when I heard that the Suicide Girls Burlesque Show was coming to the Trocadero, I jumped on the chance to go. Thus began a long night of bitter disappointment, the least of which was that there was no buffet to be had.

I should have known that the night was going to be bad as soon as it began. I bought my ticket from Ticketmaster and the wily bastards managed to sucker a total of nine and a half dollars from me. That's right; I paid almost $24 for a $14 ticket. I'll see you in hell, Ticketmaster, and I urge all of you in the strongest possible terms to avoid using their services.

Of course, this did not sour the whole evening. Plenty of overpriced events end up being fun. College, for instance, is one of them. I pay about 10 times what I ought to, but I'm having a good time. What did sour the entire evening were the terrible fumes being pumped out of the audience. I had managed to forget the cardinal rule of going to shows attended by punk-rock people: none of them wash. Also, as with every concert, there was the ubiquitous obnoxious jerk in the front. There's one at every show, and this one was a fat punk-rock guy in a skirt. Fat punk rock guy in a skirt, how I hate thee.

But punks weren't the only swine in the audience. There were several old men who, and I swear with your god as my witness that I'm not making this up, had actual genuine mirrors taped to the tops of their shoes. So there I was, trapped between perverts and punks, along with a few confused teen girls there to ogle the women to impress their skinny boyfriends and at least one emo kid who looked totally lost.

Concertgoers everywhere: you're not as attractive as you think. In fact, you're probably between 20 and 80 percent less attractive, so cover up. Put on some more deodorant while you're at it.

Also, if you're an obese old man sitting next to me on the balcony, do not for any reason ever, ever, take your shoes off. For the younger crowd, no matter how much you "love" your significant other, directly in front of me is not the place for you two to be making out. In fact, if you're within the circle I can observe by spinning 360 degrees around, keep your hands off of each other. You either disgust those around you or remind us of our own painful, pitiful loneliness.

Enough about the audience. The opening act was, as far as I can tell, called Glue From Florida. However, if you've ever met me, you know I have the tiny ears of a prepubescent dwarf, so that might not be accurate. It's hard to tell. It's even harder to tell if they were any good, since the lead singer spent most of his time flirting with the fat punk rock guy in a skirt. Even if they were good, I don't care, because although my dreams of a good meal were shattered by learning "burlesque" is not synonymous with "buffet," I was very much interested in seeing the hot naked chicks.

The second band, Sluts of Trust, was a drummer and a Scottish guy. They were actually pretty good, although in the same vein as the first were not what I was there to see. Between songs the singer would harangue us about our yarbles, our haggis, and our wankers, and the high point of the night was probably when he spotted the jerk in the skirt and frowned, so very, very sadly.

By my calculations I had been at the Trocadero for approximately 65 hours before the actual Burlesque show started. I've always heard that the Suicide Girls are hot.

To illustrate, I've heard that if you were to stuff me into a blast furnace, fill it with white phosphorous grenades, set them off and turn on the furnace, and then bury the whole thing in the molten core of the sun, I would still be significantly less hot than the Suicide Girls, even if we did it in the middle of August. The show started off well enough. Three girls, some leather clothing, tiny little Xs made of electrical tape and a few props is a combination it's hard to miss with. My favorite part was when the second girl stripped while using a hula hoop, and despite several advanced physics courses, I'm still not sure if what I saw was physically possible, what with gravity and air resistance and all. Physically possible or not, it was still freaking sweet. I dare say it may have been the greatest thing I have ever seen in my entire life.

Have you ever seen one of those Girls Gone Wild videos? Of course you have. Have you ever sat down and watched one all the way through? Of course not. Because seeing a drunk girl take her shirt off is good, but seeing it over and over a thousand times begins to acclimatize you to the act until it doesn't mean anything anymore.

The burlesque show, at least for me, was the same way; it started off exceptionally hot, but there's only so many combinations of two girls grinding on each other and making out that you can run through. Like a hot tub, you eventually get used to it. The show hit a peak right about the time the girls decided to spit on each other. Now, I don't mean a little squirt to show they care. They were pulling up some good chunky lung mustard old school loogies. It was at about this time that I noticed some of the girls were bruised up along their thighs and legs.

They were faint, but it looked like two or three days ago they had had a really good game of rugby, or someone had given them a few hard rabbit punches to the lower extremities around breakfast time.

Maybe the rumors I've heard on the Internet are true, and the guy who runs Suicide Girls is a pimp with a taste for Lamborghinis, though I can only recall hearing that from disgruntled modeling rejects. One of them had a thin, bloody cut just to the front of her hip, and if what I can recall about black-clothes-wearing teenagers at the mall is correct, it was self-inflicted. Some people may be into that sort of thing, but I'm not impressed. Exasperated might be a better word for it.

Overall, I'd say the burlesque show was OK, but it certainly didn't live up to the hype. I went thinking in I'd be consumed in a raging ball of hotness that would split me instantly into my component atoms.

While the burlesque show was pretty good, having to sit for an eternity through the opening bands and having to be in the same room as the unwashed masses that are into this sort of thing make it more or less not worth seeing. Rating: 2 Triangles.