Cupcake's blog: "my brush with Ministry"

Thursday night my mom and I took my grammiekins to Ponzu, a classy 'asian fusion' restaurant and lounge that I often frequent. Much to my surprise when we walked in, the bar was smothered with psuedo-rockstars and thier pathetic following of roadies and groupies. Bridjette, my favorite bartender and friend, informs me that it is the band none other than Ministry. A terrible 8o's "rock" band that should have stopped touring ages ago. [They were guests in the Hotel Serrano, due to thier upcoming show that Friday at the Fillmore]. The beggining of the night worked itself out in perfect formation. We were seated in my friend, Jeremi's section, who just so happens to be awesome at his job [minus the fact that he was cussing in front of my grama]. It was perfect because it seperated my precious, innocent grammie from all the disorder that was slowly unfurling inside the lounge. We finished our dinner and I escorted her and my mother out of the bar and went back inside to soak up the sultana martinis and the commotion that I had surrounded myself with. Little did I know what events were about to take place. First of all: [just so you can get a good picture of what we were dealing with here] this is a promo picture that I found on Ministry's terrible website:: On the far left is Paul Raven, the former bassist of a band called "Killing Joke", who is now working with Al Jourgensen, the lead singer for Ministry [second to right with the cowboy hat]. These two were the most obnoxious out of the whole crew of [maybe] twenty. Never in my life have I been confronted with such pompous, arrogant behavior from individuals who had no cuth, or the right to place themselves on a pedestal of any kind. Al was the first person I was confronted with, who thought it necessary that I sit with him and his followers, and converse over red wine and crabcakes. He conveniently placed me next to Raven who found it irresistible to make fun of my leopard earings [which he had mistaken for tortoise shell, and gave me the nickname "turtle girl"] and my "cynical attitude". I quickly reminded him how his facial features resembled that of Tim Curry in Rocky Horror Picture Show [the likeness was uncanny], and that i can picture him in a corset with stilhetto heals and red lipstick. He recanted, told me that I was a stunningly gorgeous and voluptous woman, and proceded to come in for a kiss which I immediately pushed him away with a grunt of some sorts that he made fun of. Too bad, so sad. And then there was AL. He looked at me with a drunk stare while wobbeling side-to-side, and said "you have beautiful lips...so full". He was so saucy from the thirty-five glasses of wine consumed throughout the afternoon, that he too, thought it necessary to try to kiss me. I pulled away in utter disgust and yanked on his chin-braids as a way to deflect any negative attitude that was to be expected after being denied. He took it well, as though he might have been used to the rejection. Either way, as the night progressed, so did thier inebriation. The next thing i knew, my friend Matty, was denying them service and an argument arose. They were finaly kicked out of the bar after a long night of lighting up ciggerettes and joints inside the bar, fucking the groupies in the womens restroom and cursing and yelling so loud that the entire restauraunt was highly annoyed. One thing is certain: all of us at Ponzu were highly entertained, and it made for great conversations and memories to discuss later in our lives.