Not that kind of girl

You can't blame a guy for trying. Not when he's a Dirtbomb.

If I were him, I'd expect to swing into Montreal, play a show and then find me some groupies. There I'd be, all stage-fresh and sweaty, drenched in band-juice, Detroit rocker to the core. It'd be action guaran-EFFEN-teed. Unless, of course, I wasted my night with girls like me and my friend instead. Then I might end up heckled into submission and photographed with girl-fists in my mouth, that's it/that's all. Overall, I think he got what he was looking for, just not exactly how he wanted it:



This might be why I'm single.