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She has a few other songs that elude to scientology, with lines like “I’ll just stay with my own kind” and “my chosen family,” but she doesn’t ever mention it outright. But I like her, and her songs are catchy and I like them. She also doesn’t run around touting it like Crazy Cruise does, so I can respect that.

As much as I think scientology is completely nutso, if I decided to boycott scientologists, I’d never watch My Name is Earl, The Simpsons, buy any Beck records, watch one of my favorite 80’s movies Top Gun, or one of my favorite movies EVER, Grease (I found it very easy to boycott King of Queens, Dharma & Greg and Veronica’s Closet, incidentally), or any movies featuring Juliette Lewis, Giovanni Ribisi, Isaac Hayes (though, after the way he pussed out on South Park, I won’t watch anything with him, the big baby), or Mimi Rogers (not that ever really do, though I do admit to getting sucked into Gung Ho on the cable once in a while). Those are the only scientologists I can recall off the top of my head. But there are lots, lots more.

I’ve totally strayed from the original story.

When we got to the House of Blues, we waited until the last minute to go in because Ryan Cabrera was the opening act (gag). That was a mistake, because we got to the balcony section and we were so far over we couldn’t see ANYTHING. But we had cool neighbors, who also were not part of the Cabrera Army Of Screaming Fourteen Year Olds, and thought it was very funny when after his first song I yelled out, “Show us your junk!” (Did I mention the margeritas before the show? Oh, tequila you sexy bitch, you.) Our whole section found that entertaining, so I figured I’d run with it, and when he said after the second song that he didn’t bring a set list, and didn’t know what to play I yelled out (of course) “FREEBIRD!”

Then I noticed Bandana Guy. Down on the floor was this older, long-haired guy in an Aerosmith t-shirt with a bandana around his head. He was dancing (to Ryan fucking Cabrera?) and he kept yelling at the stage, “These chicks love you, man!” while waving his drink in the air.

While I was people-watching, I noticed the creepy father of Jessica Simpson was there in the VIP section. I figured he must be Cabrera’s manager (maybe since he dated Ashlee?). That guy just grosses me out in a lot of ways, most notably commenting publicly on his daughter’s breasts, and how “she needs to show off those DDs!” Ewwww.

A couple of lesbians (a lot of stories from last night will start with those words) came and sat next to us, and were pissed that they could see even less than we could. They took off, and a few minutes later we saw them waiving to us from the floor to come down.

When Ryan Cabrera was done, Kay and I decided that we were going down to the floor, because I didn’t spend money on these tickets so we could look at the speakers all night.

And then I realized it. Kay and I were literally the ONLY straight girls there (the Cabrera Army bolted after his set). I had no idea Lisa Marie Presley had such a strong lesbian following, but holy jebus, there were a lot of mullets and rainbow jewelry in that room (and to be fair, a lot of “lipsticks” too). We were talking to the girls that waived us down, and they told us they were from Dallas (and they resembled each other, which freaked me out a little, because they were obviously a couple), and that for their vacation, they were following Lisa around for two weeks. Then the butchier one told us that Lisa gets a lot of Elvis people there, and she has them all thrown out, because it weirds her out to see Elvis impersonators who probably don’t give two shits about her music anyway, just having her signature on their Elvis memorabilia, which I can understand.

We were all pretty crammed together, and this troll-y lesbian tried to get by, and our new friends got mad at the way she pushed her way through, and I thought a girl fight was going to break out, but it didn’t (dammit). The troll-y lesbian was standing with her girlfriend in front of us, and the ENTIRE FUCKING SHOW she kept yelling out, “Lisa! Say hi to Katie!” over and over and over. I really wanted to punch Katie, and ask her what the fuck is so special about her that her girlfriend insists the artist single her out by saying hello all night. I mean, literally, she said it at least a dozen times between every song.

Bandana Guy was right in front of me the whole night, and as entertaining as I found him in the beginning, he became incredibly annoying after. He kept turning around and telling me, “I don’t even know who this chick is, man! I just came for the drinks! I don’t know any of these songs, man!” And I thought, you know, we’re not in a Cheech & Chong movie. Take your Aerosmith shirt and get the fuck out of my face.

A couple of lesbians on the other side of me (I told you a lot stories start this way) totally started making out when this song “Turn To Black” came on, which surprised me, because it’s a total downer song. Then the security guy flashed his little light on them, but they wouldn’t stop. In fact, I think if they had enough room, they would have laid down on the floor and got it on right there. I don’t have any problem with the lesbos, but I am uncomfortable with ANYONE being that “affectionate” in front of a bunch of strangers. Especially when they’re two inches away from me.

Toward the end of her set, she said that there is a song her mom really liked called “Idiot” (which is my song to Celestia -awww), and since her mom was there, she was going to sing it for her. Then the house lights went up, and I saw Priscilla Presley, and holy shit, does her face look WAY SCARIER in person than it does on TV. Someone needs to take her plastic surgeon out and shoot him for what he did to her. It’s hard to look at her now, and think of how beautiful she used to be.

It’s also hard to believe women (and men - hello, Kenny Rogers and Bruce Jenner) would rather look like that than have some lines on their face.

Yikes.