The other night Cannabis Corpse needed someone volunteer their bag of bones and wear the giant weed bud costume and thrash around in the crowd. So I did. The costume smelled of many many many men, and beer, and scrotum, and more beer and MORE scrotes. I was so anxious to rocket myself into the evening, gender ambiguity aflame, freak flag flying free. But, I forgot one lesson I should have wisely recalled from an embarrassingly brutal moment for me at a Suffocation show last July. I will teach this lesson to my children.A death metal crowd will injure you. You will bleed. You will be punched in the stomach. You will be groped. And, not just groped, but groped with a twisting grip which aims to bruise. Your eyes are for jabbing, your whole entire self is meant for a slamming and a beat-down. Ouchy.And that's exactly what I got. I ran into the crowd inside this giant bud-o-weed costume like a pudgy baby running after bubbles in the air. Super totally not not not death metal. I figured I was "kind bud," so I began to hug everybody. But men didn't know I was a woman in there. That is when the mauling began. Immediately after I delivered the first hug my body was grabbed from the back and I felt myself swing uncontrollably off the ground. I tried to run away but I couldnt see, and then someone grabbed me at the waist and my feet were off the floor and I was heading backward. I was starting to think about how my vagina could land on sharp objects. I assume this was better than visiting an S & M club or a spanking party or something. Come to think of it, I totally want to go to a friggn S & M club or a spanking party. Finally, I broke through the crowd and ran for safety, ripping at the costume, gasping for breath.The moral of this story is that I totally cannot hang. I guess from now on I should not do what dudes do. I should wake up like a real lady for a latte and some yoga tomorrow morning. Maybe turn it up a notch and pop an Adderall and insert some Ben Wa balls. Wait, is that what those gals are doing?ADRIANE SCHRAMM
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The other night Cannabis Corpse needed someone volunteer their bag of bones and wear the giant weed bud costume and thrash around in the crowd. So I did. The costume smelled of many many many men, and beer, and scrotum, and more beer and MORE scrotes. I was so anxious to rocket myself into the evening, gender ambiguity aflame, freak flag flying free. But, I forgot one lesson I should have wisely recalled from an embarrassingly brutal moment for me at a Suffocation show last July. I will teach this lesson to my children.A death metal crowd will injure you. You will bleed. You will be punched in the stomach. You will be groped. And, not just groped, but groped with a twisting grip which aims to bruise. Your eyes are for jabbing, your whole entire self is meant for a slamming and a beat-down. Ouchy.And that's exactly what I got. I ran into the crowd inside this giant bud-o-weed costume like a pudgy baby running after bubbles in the air. Super totally not not not death metal. I figured I was "kind bud," so I began to hug everybody. But men didn't know I was a woman in there. That is when the mauling began. Immediately after I delivered the first hug my body was grabbed from the back and I felt myself swing uncontrollably off the ground. I tried to run away but I couldnt see, and then someone grabbed me at the waist and my feet were off the floor and I was heading backward. I was starting to think about how my vagina could land on sharp objects. I assume this was better than visiting an S & M club or a spanking party or something. Come to think of it, I totally want to go to a friggn S & M club or a spanking party. Finally, I broke through the crowd and ran for safety, ripping at the costume, gasping for breath.The moral of this story is that I totally cannot hang. I guess from now on I should not do what dudes do. I should wake up like a real lady for a latte and some yoga tomorrow morning. Maybe turn it up a notch and pop an Adderall and insert some Ben Wa balls. Wait, is that what those gals are doing?ADRIANE SCHRAMM
