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June 06, 2004
I Gave Birth to Prince's Love Child
Let’s talk about Prince.
First, there were three non-ridiculous outfit changes and no lip-syncing. Can’t say the same for Onyx Hotel, Britney. Well, Prince did come out in an asymmetrical purple blazer at one point only to trump that with a red polka-dot pirate blouse. But he’s Prince. He can do that. He had matching red velvet wedge heels for the shirt too. How cute is he? And his mini moustache was just vintage. Go Prince, you go.
I was in the sixth row right above the floor level. I could throw a drink at Prince and get him a little wet. I wouldn’t throw any drinks though because those bitches cost $31. For two drinks! I was like, this shit better be some magic potion that makes me fly or something. That price is outrageous. I could have javelin-thrown myself on stage though. That’s how close I was. I was in a celebrity section (Rick Fox, Flex, Shanice, some dude that looked like he plays with Uncle Kracker) so that automatically means good seats. Did I mention yet that these tickets were free? Yes, girl. Free tickets to good seats at Prince. The only way this experience could be any better is if Prince paid my rent.
At the top of the show, Prince gave everybody a free CD. I’m sure the price of the CD was built into the price of the ticket, but still it seemed like from the start good shit was about to go down and he delivered. He sang all the old songs. The good ones. Nothing Compares 2 U, Purple Rain complete with an encore of the line “hoo hoo hoo hoo…” He just kept repeating it, and by the time that song came on, some people in my row left (why?) and Coral and I used the extra space to really dance.
Oh, we were dancing. Dancing as if a man behind was cracking a whip on our backs if we didn’t. We just couldn’t stop. I made love to the seat in front of me more than a few times. 2 Live Crew style, get arrested Bobby Brown style. Prince just brings it out of me. Oh snap, Morris Day and The Time came out and they were still doing the same dances. Jungle Love. Yessssss. Oh wee oh wee oh. I dusted off my knees and got it cracking on the Junge Love dance too. And the bird. My daddy would be proud.
The lyrics to most of these songs really make me laugh. Girl, you got a pretty car. I think I wanna drive it, drive it. Yeah, but it’s my car. Looks like the passenger side for you. I ain’t got no money. I’m rich in personality. I feel that, man.
Now, let’s talk about the part of the show where girls from the audience get to come on stage. They had to be plants. Like Prince’s cousin and the drummer in NPG’s auntie or something. They simply were not excited enough. Just not excited enough. Prince got really close to one girl with the microphone (he didn’t grind on her which I was so hoping he would) and she just took it and sang all the right words. Who really knows all the right words to say to a Prince song? I get my mumble on to most of the songs, so how is she knowing all the words and, and, and! not having a heart attack? I would have sliced Prince’s neck open with my earring, grabbed his eye out of his face. I would have to at least take him aside and be like, “What’s up for tonight?” None of that happened and a ten-year-old boy was dancing up there with a purple suit on. Totally had to be Prince’s nephew. Nepotism. Why is no one in my family in the Prince camp? Why do none of the Howards work for the Oscars or the Grammys? What do we Howards do? I don’t even have an in at the post office. My dad said if you even so much as pick up a quarter off the ground in the post office, the government is straight up watching you. I guess my mom could get me a prime seat in the TV lounge at the old folks’ home, but how is that a prize? If I got the orange Jell-O with the prime seat, maybe.
Coral had on her snake armpiece jewelry. Her crazy shit that she stole from Lenny Kravitz and she hugged me while telling me this was one of the greatest experiences of her life and in doing that she ripped my tank top right at the boob. My whole nipple was out. I had to wear the shit backwards for the rest of the show. Didn’t hinder any of my dance moves though.
I broke my neck a few times to see what Rick Fox was doing. Staring at celebrities at a concert in the Staples Center is so much easier to pull off. He was messing with his two-way half the time. But fine as hell. Like illegal fine as hell. His face. The chiseled face of heaven with the fresh stubble and the gleaming white teeth. Makes me want to watch basketball. Not really, but still. Vanessa is out of her mind to let him go to Prince by his lonesome. Out of her damn mind. If I were Gisele or like a couple feet taller, I’d be right over there with my nipple in his face like take one good look at your past (holding a picture of Vanessa) and we’re out. I lie! I would never roll up on Rick Fox. Not in this life. Not in this short body, and surely not at the Prince concert.
If you have an opportunity to go see Prince, you just have to. You’ll lose your voice. Your butt will hurt from all the grinding, but it’s so worth it. He’s the shit. And wear flip flops. Don’t be trying to be cute in your little heels because bitch you won’t be sitting down the entire time. You will be on your feet like Gloria Estefan told you to do it. I would so be Prince’s girlfriend. We could share clothes.
Posted by melissah at June 6, 2004 12:10 PM