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Snubdance: The musical | page 1, 2
About two weeks later, the phone rings ... Sundance on the line. The point is, don't be fooled. And don't think you have to travel all the way to Sundance to get fucked over, either. Just pick up Bob's Sundance catalog and buy an authentic Sundance lamp for $4,000. You'll feel good and fucked, I'm sure. And yet, although the story of Trey and Matt's Sundance experiences had been trickling in over the years, I felt I should see it firsthand before passing judgment. So, I went for the first time in January to help Jason and his hot sister Brody set up Lapdance 2000. (Brody and I went out for dinner once. Not a super-serious date, although I did take a shower. It was a nice time, but I think she was a little wary of me. Still is. No matter how sincere I'm being, she always has a twinge of distrust in her eye, like I am up to something. Very smart.) And just the kind of savvy woman you want to throw a rocking party. Lapdance 2000 was the ticket. (Last year saw the first Lapdance party, and when asked about it in an interview, Robert Redford called it "the lowest of the low." Needless to say, no one could wait until this year's.) There were drinks and dancers and video links and short films. And unlike two nights earlier, when I'd walked into the same space and suddenly found myself forced to endure Third Eye Blind, CrapTV put together the hottest musical ticket in town for Lapdance 2000. Vinyl, a Bay Area funky reggae band got everyone groovy. And DVDA opened with their freshly penned "Robert Redford Fucks Babies," and turned the dial to full on. And finally, the coup de grāce was delivered by Les Claypool and the Holy Mackerel. They are fronted by the eponymous Les, who can also be seen and heard fronting a cute little rock 'n' roll band called Primus. Overall, there was much to excite the senses, including the little pierced nipple show I got downstairs and a simultaneous sister make-out. But those are two other stories. Love, David.
- - - - - - - - - - - - Sound off Related Salon stories Forget Sundance Former Miramax exec Jack Lechner proclaims the death of the indie as we know it.
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