Whenever I think of Foo Fighters, I think of testicles. Balls. The biggest balls ever seen. This is unfortunate for two reasons: 1) I'm a straight male with no interest in any balls but my own, and 2) the Foo Fighters seem to be unavoidable, which means that thinking of balls is unavoidable. Allow me to elaborate...
The first time I saw Foo Fighters was at a festival in San Diego. One hundred bands in 3 days, all out doors in the downtown Gas Lamp district. It was like Woodstock, but with concrete instead of grass. Since Nirvana has been and always will be my favorite band, this was a momentous experience to be in the presence of Dave Grohl.
I'd never seen a set like theirs. The end of each tune was also the beginning of the next. They played for 30 minutes without stopping even to count off the next song.
About half way through the set, a kid got on stage. He just climbed over the baracade placed at the front row and stood up next to Dave Grohl. I've seen many drunkards attempt to tresspass on the stage and instantly fail. The few that do manage to physically stand on the band's turf are instantly taken down by a mob of security guards and dragged away like a topless teenager in a horror movie.
This guy was different though. Nobody did anything. He stood next to Dave for over a minute as the 5th Fighter of Foo. Dave kept singing and playing guitar, but continuosly glared from the corner of his eyes, bewildered at the fact that nobody saw this guy next to him. After a verse and a chorus, Dave stopped playing. Then the bassist. Next the guitarist. Taylor Hawkins kept punishing the drum kit for another 10 seconds and then got the cue. The Foo Fighters had stopped playing in the middle of a song.
Now security noticed the uninvited guest and started to rush him. Dave Grohl waved his arms and shouted through the microphone: "Don't touch him! Don't you fucking touch him! He's been on the stage so long he's part of the fucking band now! Don't you fucking touch him!"
Dave Grohl - "What's your name man?"
Matt - "May names Matt! Wooo Hooo!"
Dave Grohl - "Matt, where are you from?"
Matt - "Pacific Beach, fuck yeah!"
Dave Grohl - "Ok Matt from Pacific Beach, I have a question for you. If you have the balls to come up here on my stage ...do you have the balls...to show us your balls."
Suddenly, this wasn't fun anymore. Matt from Pacific Beach started to panic. He looked at his balls, then the crowd, then Dave Grohl, then his balls, crowd, Dave, crowd, balls crowd, balls crowd, Dave, balls....
Grohl crossed his arms and tapped his foot like Bugs Bunny. The smart ass grin on his face silently said "Well, you little fucker, are you going to show us your balls or are we going to stand here all night?"
The crowd started to boo. Matt from Pacific Beach heard the displeasure and brewing frustration of 50,000 rockers that paid good money and sweated in the August sun all day awaiting the Foo Fighters. He knew what he had to do.
Matt shook his head, peering down at his balls, and placed both of his hands in his pants. Some shovelling, some adjusting, and some strategizing occured. To the best of my knowledge, he covered his shaft with one hand, and yanked his balls out with the other, exposing himself to the crowd, to God, and to David Grohl, front man of Foo fighers, drummer of Nirvana.
Little did the band or Matt from Pacific Beach know, that the camera man had positioned himself center stage. He zoomed in, filling the frame with Matts manhood. There on the Sony jumbo screen, were Matt's balls, bursting at the seems, being sqeezed by his belt line, with every blue and purple vien, every nut hair and a possible genital wart, in all their detailed 20'x20' Sony high def glory.
The crowd went wild. Matt from Pacific Beach put his balls away and seciruty calmly escorted him off the stage. "I didn't think he'd really do it," Dave said, laughing aloud into the microphone. "That's guys probably going to jail now. Ooops!"
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