February 27, 2009
Munt Ree- all
I went to this concert.
Fucking I don't know. Everyone looked like they belonged on a catwalk. There were supermodels there. Seriously. Weird weird. Yeah, actual supermodels, like from magazines. I recognized them. You would too. They're on TV. And everyone was dressed to impress, wearing plaid, and skinny pants, with coloured hair and stuff. I was not dressed to impress.
It was in this place that used to be a swimming pool. They turned it into a concert hall.
I'm drunk. And exaggerating. There were no supermodels. Yes there were.
This band came on and the lead singer was wearing gotch on the outside of his clothes. I wished I was a fascist. They had thick glasses and they danced like folks from the 50s, except they had mullets.
The music was no good. Really awful.
Montreal man! What the hell?!
There were these policemen at the back. They seemed like the only sane people in the room.
I hated it, I loved it.
I loved the young girls dancing. That part I loved. And obviously the supermodels.
Then I took a taxi home. He was this old, bald guy. He seemed pretty unimpressed with my drunkenness. He drove me through all these tunnels I didn't know existed, and he listened to mid-90s hip-hop. Kriss-Kross.
One of the strangest nights of my life.