Thursday, February 24, 2011

What do you write about, when you have nothing to say?

So as the title suggests, I'm conceptually broke. But I will relate certain events, that were a pleasant break from the monotonous cycle of sleep, sleep deprivation, and more sleep.

I was never very fond of Bryan Adams. I mean sure, he had a few good hits like Summer of '69 (which is apparently bursting with sexual innuendo), Everything I Do, Here I Am, etc., but he never really got to me as an artist, partly because he sounds like a horse. Or maybe I just think so because he voiced one in some animated movie. Anyway, I have this tall lanky,but immensely pretty friend, who would go nuts about him when we were in school. Refer to him as God and what not. I never really agreed with her and told her that the only reason she loved him was because he sounded like a horse, the only creature she'd successfully be able to copulate with.
I beg to differ now. About the Bryan Adams being ordinary part of it. My friend is still searching for her Fine Equine.
Almost everyone I knew who was in the city at the time was attending the concert and I decided wasn't going to buy those steeply priced tickets and that I'd only go if passes somehow miraculously fell into my lap. And fall into my lap they did, because the next day I overheard  eavesdropped on my brother asking my dad for passes, and yes, miraculously enough, he said he'd see what he could do. Luckily one of the sponsors had some connection with my dad so he said he could get us passes. I immediately jumped in and demanded that if my brother was getting passes, I wanted one too. Now this was partly because I did want to go since my friends would be there, but mostly because I am filled with a sense of wondrous optimism every time I'm able to successfully ruin something for my brother. Reminds me that the world is still a beautiful place.

Ugh. This is getting long, so I'll cut it short. The passes turned out to be VVIP passes, i.e in a section cordoned off from the regular crowd. For once in my life, I hated being privileged. And the seating sucked too. It was filled with these celebrities and and the floozy Page3 crowds who spent the entire concert fidgeting with their hair and makeup and trying to look elegant yet candid enough for the many cameras around. To make it worse, I showed up wearing a Kurta and jeans (courtesy my afore-mentioned friend, the bitch) and had literally everybody stare at me like I was The Thing from the Swamp. I spent the the first half hour frantically scouting for a familiar face that I knew in person and not from a magazine. I hit the jackpot. I found a classmate from school who was with another guy I knew along with 3 other people who seemed incredibly nice. Oh oh oh, and did I mention? OPEN BAR. It felt so good to have some rum and vod after 8 fucking months. Not too much though, I had to get home sober.
The concert began and soon enough I forgot about how my friends were an entire section away from me or that I was wearing a Kurta at what seemed to be a Page3 event, and Bryan Adams just took over. Man, that guy knows how to please a crowd. And he didn't even have to take his clothes off or anything. Now THAT'S talent. Each song was more heart thumping than the next and the company was as good as the alcohol. We decided to do the whole shout out to Adams when the crowd was silent. We yelled, "WE LOVE YOU BRYAN ADAMS", which was followed by "I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES" yelled by this one incredibly Gay and incredibly awesome friend of ours. All in all it was an insane evening that assured me that life didn't have to suck as long as there are concerts like these every once in a while.

The point is, I now find Horse-Singing immensely sexy.

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