I hurt myself today.

“I hope you attract some creepy guys tonight,” I told Court as we got on the streetcar to head to the Nine Inch Nails show. However, little did we know that the power of my green skirt would prevail, and I would be the one to pick up the creep for the night.

After Death from Above 1979 (who made me want to rape them- this entire post could be about them) and Queens of the Stone Age played, the empty seats next to me were filled by two 30-ish looking guy, one with the shaved head, and the other clad head to toe in leather. The one in leather wasn’t even sitting down before he started in on me. I tried to ignore him, and turned to talk to Courtney, who laughed telling me, “That guy is staring at you like he’s completely in love with you.”

“Have you seen Nine Inch Nails before?” he asked me, “I’ve seen them play a couple of times now."

“No.”

“So, what’s your name?”

“Alicia.” One word answers seemed to be a safe bet in the game at this point.

“Well, Alicia, I guess we’re going to be rocking together tonight,” he told me with a smug grin on his face.

“Actually, I was planning on doing more watching than rocking,” I told him, trying to shut down his conversation advances.

He persisted.

“Well, either way, we’re going to be rocking pretty hardcore, just to warn you,” he told me, smiling slyly, obviously proud of his leather clad prowess.

The guy apparently wanted to engage in conversation. Fine. I’d give him a conversation.

I gave him a sweet smile and asked inquisitively, “How are the leather pants? Do you find that they’re conducive to ‘rocking’?”

“They’re really breathable, actually.”

“Really?” I asked, pretending to be eager for more information, “I never would have guessed!”

I looked down to notice that his skinny leather clad leg had worked its way over to my seat, somehow. I briefly considered jumping in Courtney’s lap for safety.

“Yah, they’re breathable, really comfortable, and,” he said, pausing for emphasis, “you have to admit it looks pretty cool too.” The smile of confident satisfaction on his face was too much.

“Actually, it looks like you’re wearing a dead animal.”

My new friend was serious when he said he was going to “rock hard.” I was expecting him to be your prototypical “thrasher” but instead he surprised me by pulling out some moves I’ve never seen before. He had all the classic elements there; the devil’s horn, the shaking head and the pumping fists in the air. But he added in some twists of his own. The guy looked like he was a wizard casting spells on the crowd, and liked to point his fingers a lot. But he also pulled out this awesome dance move that resembled him fighting with one of those stationary punching bags. Or perhaps he was miming fighting with a paraplegic midget. I’m not too sure. One of the above. He also completely outshined my weekend interpretation of "Hungry Like the Wolf" when he pulled out actions when the words "head like a hole" starting blasting through the speakers.

Courtney and I were killing ourselves laughing, and I told her, “All he needs now are the spirit fingers!” Of course, I was being completely facetious, but then…yes, it happened. He actually used spirit fingers.

Other than that, Court and I were easily the giddiest people at the show, giggling throughout. Yes, that’s right. I giggled at a Nine Inch Nails show. There were high fives to be had too. The evening was also punctuated by smartass comments, about, well, about everything.

“Statistic: nine out of ten people here believe this is their personal theme song,” I told Court when Trent Reznor started to play Hurt.

Court didn’t miss a beat, “Really?! This is my and Mat’s song, actually.”

I feel like I’ve reached a whole new level of cynicism.

The moral of the story? I’m a cynical bitch who is only capable of attracting 30-year-old men clad entirely in leather. But I'm also a cynical bitch who has friends who are willing to high five me at a NIN show. And isn't that what friendship is really about?