Out of place and off their face. If I never see a girl (or, for that matter, a guy) with fanta-orange tanned skin for the rest of my life, I will die a happy man. I was sent just over a week ago through work to review Future Entertainment's Future Music Festival, a day-time dance party held at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl. To say I was absolutely swimming through a sea of orange would be an understatement. I was actually surprised to find there were no fake-tanning booths set up as market stalls to be honest. I guess the organisers knew no one would be on the dancefloor if such a thing had been implemented.

The crowd were... um, unbelievable. Unbelievable in the sense that I never knew that many self-obsessed gimps could actually co-exist - let alone were able to congregate - in the one large concert space. It was like partying with wild, untamed zoo animals half the time. A total of zero people were apologetic when bumping into me, people stood on mine (and others) toes - and in place of an apology, one actually said "watch where you're going". Unfuckingbelievable. Had I not been completely out of it on Mercyndol Forte for my agonising migraine, I would have headbutted the cunt. In lines for the toilets people were abusive to poor random others just waiting to hang a piss. In lines for food, general manners in saying "please" and "Thank you" before and after the order was placed went out the window, in place of grunts and vacant stares. A friend of mine managed to witness an entire garbage rolley-bin being THROWN/PUNCHED into the face of an unsuspecting male near the toilets. Next thing we know, there's a stretcher and an ambulance cutting through the market stalls.

The complete rudeness continued in front of the stages. One girl, whilst I had been up the front for hours waiting for Princess Superstar (pictured, top right) to begin, came up and pushed her way into a position next to me. Her giant handbag, more than likely filled with 78 kilograms of lip gloss, was so heavy that it knocked my feet off my floor space at the front and had squished me up the point I thought I was going to fall flat on my back. She then stood NEXT to the bag, and darted a look at me as if to say "I really don't care that I'm pushing in". After asking her politely if she could move her bag, she filthily glanced at me, lifted her foot and moved the bag about a millimetre away from me. Now, I'm a large guy. Her minuscule movement of the handbag did fuck all for my feet, let alone my body size, and she very well knew this was the case. There was no fucking way I was to let this $2 Crack whore who was quite obviously coked up to her eyeballs thrash me around. I don't care how much you're enjoying your high, if you insist on being an absolute cock-muncher than I'm going to say something. Her filthy glance was quite swiftly thrown out the door when I then returned her gaze and - quite calmly - told her to put her bag in front of her own fucking feet or it'd be thrown into the audience behind us. She then grabbed her bag and moved a good half a metre away. That'll fucking teach her.

As for the music, Princess Superstar was the obvious winner. If you want to actually read the article in which I talk about the, er, music side of things (the one I was sent to the event to write), you can read it here. I was lucky enough to have a chat with her after the gig. She remembered me from last years gig at Famous, and even remembered the Geelong gig from 2002. Grabbed a photo with her which you can gaze over once I upload it over the weekend. Speaking of, er, hem hem, celebs, I managed to spot John - the guy with tourettes - from last years Big Brother. You know, the one that got kicked out with Ashley for turkey slapping Camilla? How exciting. Um...

Survival of the fittest: That's the way things go at these gliteratti type dance parties. Here's a couple of tips to keep in mind the next time you attend a dance party/function with the ugly-pretty people... Some of them are actual tips worth taking note of, the others, more tips on how to blend in with the majority.

* The one trick with these types of parties is to make sure you walk in with the thought that you are actually a much nicer and overall better person than anyone else in attendance. 98% of the time, this thought process is actually correct, but you need to walk in KNOWING it is 100%. Quite frankly, it's a survival technique, and the only possible way you'll be able to resist swapping your overly-sized sunglasses during a dancefloor moment with a munted metrosexual. Remember, no matter how many drugs you've consumed, apparently there is just no excuse to be nice to anyone. So if you feel an urge to say "please" or "thank you" at all during the day, it's quite obviously time to shut up and have another line of coke instead.

* Do not touch skin with anyone, particularly if you are wearing white. If you walk away after an "incident" at the front of the dancefloor, you are more than guaranteed of having to endure the rest of the party covered in blotches of orange fake tan. This - no matter what Donatella Versace would have you believe - is not a good look.

* Be on the look out for so called "celebrity" reality show contestants, especially if you are a girl and the celebrity is a male. That shot of you with your arm around them and their eyes desperately wanting to return back to your orange cleavage is the PERFECT addition to your MySpace profile. And if you ask nicely, they might even whack their cock about your face a bit later. This is the only time during the day the words "please" and "Thank you" would be deemed acceptable for use.

* There is no such thing as too much lip gloss. Even if it does look like you've just gone down on an extremely fat, greasy pig.

* Wear your sunglasses if you plan on gurning your face off whilst under the influence. If you have glasses on, no one will take any notice of your chattering teeth, or the gnawing of your tongue on the dancefloor. None at all.

There is probably a lot more, but I've suddenly grown very, very tired. That said, contrary to all this nonsense, I did actually have a bloody good time. It just would have been an even better day had the crown not been made up of absolute morons, that's all.

Labels: Gig Reviews

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1 Comments:

• 2:25 PM |  Pop said...
  This sounds like a horrible experience!

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