Tour Diary Day 2: Best Tit Forward
Guten Tag, bitches.
We've made it to Munich. Well, we made it on Monday afternoon, but we've had a bunch of craziness leading up to tonight that has been rather fucking excellent, I have to admit. We got to do a quick run down of our set in the arena this afternoon, which was mauseating (a word we've coined for this tour mental to the point of making you feel like you're going to be sick.) That this is our life for the next three months is also mauseating. It has been on the horizon for so, so long that it didn't feel like it would ever happen. And to be fair, almost didn't more than once. Totally cray for it to be kicking off tomorrow, I could not be more proud of the work we've done.
HOWEVER. During a junket one (of the three) radio stations we were in today, we got ahold of our final press kit. Something that WE HAVE NEVER SEEN. I would like to make it clear that I had nothing to do with the photo, nor the truly. fucking. barking. amount of photo-shopping they've done to my...ladies.
Seriously, WHAT? Where....where did they come from!? I wish that was actually me. Is that why the boys look so harassed/nauseated? Note the Bikinus hip hold, single best piece of picture-taking advice ever.
This here is REAL LIFE (taken during Hasselhoff FM today)
Bonus points for eyes closed, Sasha, sell it, girl. Haha make Seb proud. I have no idea who thought that was the best shot to use as our press photo, but I personally cannot wait to deliver on some promises to the young lads of Europe bringing their ladies to see KP. Haha!
I tried to have a proper strop at Seb about it (in hopes to get my way about something good in the future) but then was dismayed found out he hadn't seen a final copy yet, either. So big thanks to the marketing department at Capitol. Delightful. I was slightly assuaged by his solidarity in my outrage, which lasted about as long as it took for Marc and Del to start taking the piss (more or less 20 minutes.)
The next person on this bus who calls me Tits McGee is riding to France in the bloody luggage hold.
We've made it to Munich. Well, we made it on Monday afternoon, but we've had a bunch of craziness leading up to tonight that has been rather fucking excellent, I have to admit. We got to do a quick run down of our set in the arena this afternoon, which was mauseating (a word we've coined for this tour mental to the point of making you feel like you're going to be sick.) That this is our life for the next three months is also mauseating. It has been on the horizon for so, so long that it didn't feel like it would ever happen. And to be fair, almost didn't more than once. Totally cray for it to be kicking off tomorrow, I could not be more proud of the work we've done.
HOWEVER. During a junket one (of the three) radio stations we were in today, we got ahold of our final press kit. Something that WE HAVE NEVER SEEN. I would like to make it clear that I had nothing to do with the photo, nor the truly. fucking. barking. amount of photo-shopping they've done to my...ladies.
Seriously, WHAT? Where....where did they come from!? I wish that was actually me. Is that why the boys look so harassed/nauseated? Note the Bikinus hip hold, single best piece of picture-taking advice ever.
This here is REAL LIFE (taken during Hasselhoff FM today)
Bonus points for eyes closed, Sasha, sell it, girl. Haha make Seb proud. I have no idea who thought that was the best shot to use as our press photo, but I personally cannot wait to deliver on some promises to the young lads of Europe bringing their ladies to see KP. Haha!
I tried to have a proper strop at Seb about it (in hopes to get my way about something good in the future) but then was dismayed found out he hadn't seen a final copy yet, either. So big thanks to the marketing department at Capitol. Delightful. I was slightly assuaged by his solidarity in my outrage, which lasted about as long as it took for Marc and Del to start taking the piss (more or less 20 minutes.)
The next person on this bus who calls me Tits McGee is riding to France in the bloody luggage hold.