Confessions Of A Shady Lady
So you're at Vital Day 2 (you didn't go to day 1 cuz it sounded shite). You're feeling a little petrified by the fact that you haven't been out in two years sans flicky hair. You have your big red glasses on cuz you can perve on boys that way and not get seen. In fact you're looking pretty spectacularly pretentious and have some lovely vodka drink with candy floss mixed in so its a pretty pink colour. You run into your cousin (who you fancied when you were three - so wrong, but in your defence you only knew 3 boys - him, your uncle and your dad). After a quick chat you look up and realise his friend is just about the hottest thing that ever graced a Maximo Park tshirt.
So you get some extra aftershow tickets and meet up with them post-gig to go to the Spab where, after much reassurance by that pesky Joe Dougan that you only need be yourself to impress this fine fellow, you talk music with him for a little while. Now Joe if you are reading this, that may well have been the worst advice EVER.
In the car on the way home I decided it would be hilarious to tell lots of jokes about necrophilia and how i once read 1 in 10 undertakers has had *urges* to do *that kind of thing*. I then went on to talk about the technicalities of sex with trees. It only in the harsh light of day you realise how unfunny one can be when nervous, a bit pissed and sans flicks.
What else happened at Vital.....hmmmmm...... Well the security men were bastards to me and made me go in a different way to Niall and Anja ('IT'S BECAUSE I AM SANS FLICKS, ISNT IT!!?') but in a lovely stroke of luck I ran into Miss Paula who was also being a perve in shades. Apparently Anja and I have fans in Belgium. This is exciting and also a bit sad. I saw Oppenheimer for the first time. It was like Simon and Garfunkel stuck in a Disney movie and was tres pretty. I want to be friends with that pretty fringe lady who taught me design at uni and goes out with an Oppenheimer. I danced like a spaz to the Chalets complete with really literal dancing (imaginary watch? stroking an imaginary machine? drawing imaginary sheds in midair? nightmare face? oh dear, bad vodka) and went outside to do some 'OH oh oh oh OH oh oh' Futureheads-type stuff. I didn't really like anything else. That Kings Of Leon boy looks like Gollum and all their songs sound the same. Those Faithless people need a kazoo solo in there somewhere. Those Alloy Mental people were a bit Hitler-esque. I had some nice icecream, a baked potato and some pizza. I sung 'Hey Scenester' at Johnny 'OMG Alt Ulster' Tiernan. Then I had a really nice wee.
So you get some extra aftershow tickets and meet up with them post-gig to go to the Spab where, after much reassurance by that pesky Joe Dougan that you only need be yourself to impress this fine fellow, you talk music with him for a little while. Now Joe if you are reading this, that may well have been the worst advice EVER.
In the car on the way home I decided it would be hilarious to tell lots of jokes about necrophilia and how i once read 1 in 10 undertakers has had *urges* to do *that kind of thing*. I then went on to talk about the technicalities of sex with trees. It only in the harsh light of day you realise how unfunny one can be when nervous, a bit pissed and sans flicks.
What else happened at Vital.....hmmmmm...... Well the security men were bastards to me and made me go in a different way to Niall and Anja ('IT'S BECAUSE I AM SANS FLICKS, ISNT IT!!?') but in a lovely stroke of luck I ran into Miss Paula who was also being a perve in shades. Apparently Anja and I have fans in Belgium. This is exciting and also a bit sad. I saw Oppenheimer for the first time. It was like Simon and Garfunkel stuck in a Disney movie and was tres pretty. I want to be friends with that pretty fringe lady who taught me design at uni and goes out with an Oppenheimer. I danced like a spaz to the Chalets complete with really literal dancing (imaginary watch? stroking an imaginary machine? drawing imaginary sheds in midair? nightmare face? oh dear, bad vodka) and went outside to do some 'OH oh oh oh OH oh oh' Futureheads-type stuff. I didn't really like anything else. That Kings Of Leon boy looks like Gollum and all their songs sound the same. Those Faithless people need a kazoo solo in there somewhere. Those Alloy Mental people were a bit Hitler-esque. I had some nice icecream, a baked potato and some pizza. I sung 'Hey Scenester' at Johnny 'OMG Alt Ulster' Tiernan. Then I had a really nice wee.