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The Low Spark Of High Heeled Boys

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Freshly atoned and ready to face the world, I bring forth the review of last week’s Scissor Sisters Shrine appearance..

Let’s start with a tip of the hat and heaping plate of kudos to the crack security team. A+ for excessive paranoia, but D- for negligent handbag-cavity search. The mondo satchel strapped across my bod like Rambo could have easily been packing heat (bringing “death before disco” to new and terrifying heights). But they never actually dug in the purse, they just shined a shiny light across the top of the contents, revealing Rx bottles (which until that moment I hadn’t given any thought to).

“This girl’s got a lot of pills” the checker shrieked to a supervisor as if I was the least sneaky drug dealer ever. Instantly, I made a lot of new, winking friends in line. The supervisor bounded across the barricade hoping to bust a cartel kingpin and was more than a little disappointed to find legitimate pharmaceuticals in labeled bottles that matched the laminated embarrassment I call a drivers license (obviously the quaaludes and doobage were in my undies).

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Defeated, the fearless supervisor slinked back to his makeshift quarters, and the original checker proceeded to pat me down, feel me up and make me open my purse yet again, this time to question my non-hollowed out ballpoint pen (that I intended to use to take notes on the show, not this security fiasco…) and then, with one final embarrassing blow, she made me remove from my bag a simply packaged Dermalogica gel that I was toting around to help combat unsightly blemishes. Honestly, I’ve had less thorough exams at the doctor’s office. I can only imagine what fun she and her flashlight had in store for the next mule.