Pray for MY Soul, OK?

All right, so I know I said I wasn’t going to mention Constantine Maroulis anymore, but it is, as “they” say, a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, and although some may think I’ve lost my mind altogether, it’s still intact enough for me to be able to change it. And I’m still a woman (as of this writing). So.
This afternoon, Rickey and I went down to SHOW on West 41st Street to take a li’l looksee at the lineup waiting to buy tickets for tonight’s CD release party for Pray for the Soul of Betty, Constantine’s band. We both took a few photos, but didn’t stick around long enough to see if Constantine would make an outdoor appearance. I didn’t mind too much, because as many of you know, I did get to be thisclose to him last week. And while it would have been extra-crispy groovy to have been near him again, I don’t think fortune would smile — nay, GRIN — on me twice in one week. Fortune knows I’m too young to suffer a heart attack.
So here, without further fanfare, are eight photos I took of the line. Not nearly as many people were there as I thought would be. And the photos didn’t turn out as well as I would have liked. But they’re photos, and I know a lot of the “Betty Bitches” (that’s what they call themselves, all right? For once, I’m not being a big ol’ meanie) want to see them. Enjoy, bitches:

A special HELLO goes out to Carrie*, the adorable girl Rickey and I met this afternoon when she passed by on her way back to work. She works in the building next to SHOW, so if you know anyone she works with, don’t tell them she was goofing off with us. Thanks.
* No, not Carrie Underwood. Please.