There's really only one thing better than seeing a Kittie concert. No, it isn't seeing the movie "Chicken Run." No, it's not even watching a Monkees marathon. And while anything involving Pokemon comes close, that's not it, either. No, friends, the only thing better than seeing a Kittie concert is seeing a Kittie concert that will be on television.

So, when I heard that Kittie were going to tape an episode of Farm Club, I was very excited. Not only would I get to see Kittie, but I'd also get to see Disturbed and I'd be able to yell degrading things at Matt Pinfield! Yeah, that's right. I'm talking to you, Pinfield! You dumb Uncle Fester boring pig-man! I shake my private parts in your face and laugh at the size of your belly!

So, I reserved my tickets a week early and was almost all set to go. All I had to do now was find someone who'd go with me. I'm too scared of the outside world to go by myself.

Luckily, I had met these two guys at a lesbian bar one night. I was sitting on the roof, crushing the heads of the passers-by and yelling taunting, funny things at them, just like I do every Saturday night. But one night these two guys come in, jump on the roof of an '86 Dodge, and start yelling about how King Tut is really buried in the belly of a flying sheep. I was confused. But their speech was so compelling that I spared their heads.

So I called them up on the day of the concert and asked if they wanted to go to the show with me. Since they didn't know who I was, it took some convincing. But they both heartily agreed.

We jumped on our tricycles and sped through the mean streets of Los Angeles. Oh, we were bad. Bad to the bone! Rebels without a cause! We rebelled against all those silly things that you "norms" call "traffic laws." Oh, yes! We were trouble with a capital "TROUBLE." Fear us, reader, for we dress in leather and laugh at babies!

Now that I've impressed and intimidated you, onward with my tale! Since I hadn't been told the exact address of the television studio, it took a half hour and eight different security guards until we finally found it. But, alas, since I hadn't been told the time of the taping, either, we had arrived too early! We were sent away by some facist wench in a bright yellow raincoat. Yep, nothing says power like a bright yellow raincoat.

So we spent the better part of two hours scaring people by talking loudly of lewd sex acts and illegal substances. During this time, I purchased a Madman t-shirt. It's really neat. It's got a picture of Madman, himself, shooting a frisbee gun. And on the back it says, "What doesn't kill him makes him really sore for weeks!" Now that's genius! So I placed it over the Nirvana t-shirt I was originally wearing and we made our way back to the television studio.

When we got there, we saw all sorts of "cool goth people." After my first few encounters with these types, you'd think I would have dressed up for the occassion. But, no, there I was: in my flannel shirt and Madman t-shirt. I was wearing no pants but I had black boxers on. So I was somewhat goth. I thought I blended in quite well.

They made us waiting for two hours in a really cramped line while they got our names and such. Two hours! Bah. I passed the time thinking about dairy products that begin with the letter "k." My friends, Mike and Aaron, spent the time talking amongst themselves and plotting my destruction. Someone was passing out temporary tattoos of the logo from the Disturbed album. Now, you need water to get the things to stick. But since we didn't have any water, Mike spit on the thing and got it to stick. It's really more impressive than it sounds. I guess you had to be there.

Soon, they herded us to another section of the studio lot so that we might empty our bladders. It took a good twenty minutes to get everyone back together. Meanwhile, we listened to thirty-year-olds behind us talk about what a great band Disturbed is. Turns out that they were at the San Diego show I went to, too. Small world, no?

Then they herded us into ANOTHER line. We spent another twenty minutes waiting while they got everyone through a metal detector. Then we had to wait in this clustered mob of smelly goth people. I saw a few people that had scared me when I went to the Whisky to get Kittie's autograph. They recognized me, too. I'm sure of it. How do I know? Well, one of them pointed at me and they all laughed.

It took another ten minutes before we crowded our way into the actual studio. The place was really stupid looking. But we found a relatively empty spot at the far right side of the stage. So we all had a good view.

While we were waiting, this guy was doing a horrible comedy routine with the audience. Only the people that knew him bothered to fake a few laughs. But all of a sudden Morgan appeared and started talking to the people next to me! She was four, nay three feet away. I could've reached out and poked her in the eye if I wanted to. But instead I just stood there and stared at her. Until she left.

Then they had these women dressed in dish towels come out and do a very sad dance routine to a Marilyn Manson song. This was bad enough, but then they shoved everyone to the side so they could get an aerial camera to the stage. To annoy people, I started sniffing them. This created more room for me. But soon they took the camera away and everyone scattered. And who had the most room in the place? ME!! That's who.

Then the stage started revolving. Turns out that the stage has two identical sides to save time. And, look! Here comes Disturbed! No, wait, the stage is going the other way again. Bye, bye Disturbed! No, no! Here they come again! All right, they're here to stay.

Disturbed did two songs. "Sickness" and "Stupify," if I remember correctly. Which I probably don't. The songs were great. I was jumping around and crashed into this girl who was standing next to me. Three times! At the end of "Stupify," they were supposed to go do an interview. But apparently they forgot or weren't told. So they had to do "Stupify" twice. Which was great! More jumping and more crashing! I didn't hear much of the interview, as they were on the other side of the room when they did it. Oh, well.

After that, the dancing broads came out again.

Then Kittie came out! As they were doing sound check, I yelled "Play some Bon Jovi!" Then my friends and I started yelling names of stupid bands. It was funny. Finally, though, Kittie went into their set. They played "Brackish," "Charlotte," and "Spit." In that order. If anyone tells you differently, you should rip their tongues from their mouths and nail their knees to their eyes. During the songs, I jumped around and headbanged and thrashed my hair around and crashed into the girl next to me. It was oh-so-much fun. Talena was no more than seven feet away from me. If I wanted to, I could've taken my shoe off and tossed it at her head. But instead I jumped around and crashed into the girl next to me.

Then, Kittie did their interview. But instead of going across the room, they stayed on the stage. Which was great. My friend and I again yelled band names such as Poison, Winger, Bon Jovi, Twisted Sister, Hanson, and the like. When Kittie was talking about the internet and how it helped them, I yelled "I like porn on the internet!" Everyone laughed. Kittie pretended not to hear me, but I know they did. I mean, I know they heard me. Sorry, that sentence ends vaguely. As they were getting ready to leave, I yelled "My loins burn for you!" Again, people laughed and Kittie ignored me. I hope my comments get on television. Not because it would satisfy my ego sexually, but because I would be setting an example for every other Kittie fan to follow. And, by golly, if everyone were like me the world would be a much funnier place. That or we'd have killed each other off long, long ago. Either way, we'd all be much happier. Hear that? You know what you must do now: ELECT ME AS YOUR SURPREME OVERLORD! MAKE ME YOUR RULER! FOLLOW ME AND BE LED TO THE PROMISED LAND! I AM YOUR LEADER NOW! NOW AND FOR ALL ETERNITY!!!!

Yeah, so anyway: after the interview most of Kittie just left. Mercedes ran around the stage and did various, wacky things. And some girl who threw a slap-on bracelet on stage was bragging that Talena was wearing it. As Mercedes was leaving she stopped by the group of people near me. Boy, I was in a great location. She had a few words with the people and, again, I could've picked up my shoe and handed it to her. But I just watched her. Besides, I needed my shoe.

As we were waiting around for the next whatever-thing-was-going-to-happen Morgan came out yet again and started talking to the people around me again. My friend Mike, after reading my account of what happened at the Whisky, was determined to get her to talk to me. So he went up and told her about this site. She said she knew of it and he introduced us. She said, "I know that site. I couldn't tell if if was making fun of us or not but I guess that's cool." And then something else that I couldn't hear. Then I just stood there while Mike talked to her. They had a pleasant conversation while I made the occasional stupid comment. And every time I said something Morgan got this disgusted look on her face when she looked at me. So now I've disgusted both Landers! Whoo!

Random people came up and got her autograph and such. Morgan told us that she enjoyed doing the Farm Club thing since people who actually listened to her music where there. As opposed to "Later" and the Conan O'Brian Show when there were (and I quote) "a bunch of tourists going 'oh my god, look at that!'" Then the silly dancing chicks came back on to do more dancing. Morgan started dancing along, too, but in a mock fashion.

Then Mike wanted to give Morgan his autograph. She said, "Sure, as long as it's something . . . " I didn't hear the exact word, but I'm sure she said something along the lines of "obscene" or "vulgar." So he wrote "I want your ****" on her arm. Only he wrote the word instead of those starry things. The word begins with a "c" and rhymes with "hunt." It's a very naughty word. So naughty that to type it here would mean the eternal damnation of my very soul!

As some other people were getting her autograph, it occured to me that I should've brought paper to get an autograph, too. So I dug in my pocket and found the receipt for my Madman t-shirt. She signed it and drew a happy face. But I could tell she wanted to punch me. Really hard. In the nose. So that blood would go spurting psssssshhhhh in slow motion.

Some lady then went up to her and told her she had to do an interview backstage. So Morgan left. Well, not really. She was leaving but got stopped by another group of people next to us. She talked to them for a few minutes before disappearing completely.

Somewhere in the midst of that, Mike had gotten hold of Morgan's water bottle. He gave it to me. It's sitting next to my computer as I type this. I've encased it in gold and have mini-spot lights shining on it all day.

After that, my other friend Aaron told us he had a severe headache and needed to leave. So we did our best to get kicked out. But since nothing was going on, the studio people didn't care. So we just left. We got escourted by security and everything.

I was feeling pretty good about the evening. After I dropped Mike and Aaron at home, I dug in my pocket to look at my Morgan autograph. But, by golly, I LOST THE DAMN THING!!!! I have a suspicion that it fell out of my pocket when I was digging for my keys in the studio parking lot. I was bummed. I threw things and cried and hit walls and cried and kicked myself and cried and cried and cried. It really sucked. In fact, I'm going to go cry some more. >sob<