So, you think I'm a sellout pussy for going to the Beyoncé show this weekend? Whatever. On Saturday, while your bitch is trouncing you at Lord of the Rings pinball at the Triple Nickel, the inconceivably gorgeous Beyoncé Knowles will be belting out "I'm a be like a waffle cone that's drippin' down to the floor," while looking right at me.
Her current world tour, "The Beyoncé Experience," rides the coattails of a deluxe-edition release of her 2006 full-length B'Day (not to mention the recent issue of her Spanish-language album, Irremplazable). Half-impressed with her first solo record, Dangerously in Love, I expected B'Day to be similar—boasting four or five enjoyably catchy tracks, with the rest just fluff and requisite Jay-Z raps. Instead, B'Day is an astonishing, close-to-flawless R&B album, the only weak link being the irrepressible "Irreplaceable."
Concertgoers can expect the usual Rose Garden pop star show, as far as pyrotechnics and Jumbovision go. But, as it turns out, "The Beyoncé Experience" offers more than just countless costume changes and dreadful Dreamgirls numbers. Notably, Beyonce's 10-piece band is all female, and her dancers are all dudes. Not only that, but at two points in the set, the dancers reportedly toss $100 bills (emblazoned with Beyoncé's likeness, of course) into the crowd.
The best element of tonight's performance? With the upper-level seating section inexplicably closed off, all seats should have a clear view of B's fine assets. While the woman's devotion to Jesus and animal fur is a bit unsettling, when she's pole dancing during "Suga Mama," she could have the politics of Ann Coulter, for all I care. Besides, Beyoncé demands to be adored, if only for her pop-star traits—a killer rack, walloping warble, and that bodacious booty.