Say Something...

The following takes place between 30/11/07 and 2/12/07. If Jack Bauer had to hold it in for that long he'd end up in a hospital for sure. Think about it, that spans two months!

In this instalment of obscure geeky references and poorly written logic gags, I have my hearing blasted away by Chris Cheney (which is better than being blasted away by a Cheney of a more conservative nature), I walk into a toy store for the first time in ages to be blasted away by the sign that laziness has indeed prevailed amongst our youth - the battery powered supersoaker, and I discover why you don't tell anyone you're watching Knocked Up on DVD... all in all, pretty promising stuff. I'm not sure I can follow up on all that hype, ooh I've dug a pretty big hole for myself now...

(Okay I've realised I've again used far too much descriptive language to narrate my weekend, so feel free to treat this as three separate posts and read/ignore what you want. Enjoy, and see you after the late movie.)


Act One - Setup And Premise

On Friday my sister and I made the trek down to the Prince Bandroom to see the EG Music Awards. Normally I wouldn't go to such trouble to see an awards ceremony where half the awardees can't show up due to scheduling and the record company goon ends up taking them all, but the organisers got smart and managed to book the ultimate drawcard - The Living End. Being the only local gig the guys were holding for the year, the attraction would be magnetic to fans. Heading over there was my sister's idea but I didn't mind at all, after all good taste in music takes years to instill and I like to think I did a pretty damn good job weening her off pop music. Though to be fair, Britney Spears doesn't do herself any favours when she could easily put together a photo album of knickerless upskirting shots from press clippings.

It was not overly surprising to see that TLE were put at the very end of the programme for the night and it was obvious some people were not content to stand for two and a half hours waiting for them to show up, as evidenced by several people standing in line in front of us opting to bugger off elsewhere until then. Getting inside took seconds longer than we had anticipated due to the fact that my sister had only turned 18 a couple of days before. Watching the bouncer glare at her driver's license and trying to remember what day it was and calculating her age more than made up for any sort of additional wait.

There's nothing worse than being in a bar than just standing around without a drink in hand. I suppose being all by your lonesomes is somewhat worse, but with a drink in hand you can at least pretend you're waiting for your mates to unditch you. Ctrl-U would be the shortcut of choice there I believe. The point of this preamble is that I got to buy my sister her first (legal) drink which was nice, especially when you stand by a bar for five minutes trying to get the girl there to notice you, then shelling out the GDP of a small islander nation for a couple of beers. Once that was all taken care of, we jostled around for a good spot and watched the show. Most of the awards were fairly superfluous with the performances being the centre of attention. Local talent was on parade with Augie March, Clare Bowditch and Angie Hart among others, with Hart doing a weird cover of Kylie Minogue's 'I Believe In You' where she read the lyrics off a piece of paper which she promptly shred to bits at the end. And rightly so too.


TLE finally got themselves on at around 10.40 and played a full set which really hit the ground pounding and never let up for a second. All the hits were played from Prisoner of Society and Roll On to recent offerings Wake Up and What's On Your Radio? Unfortunately for me, I am but a casual listener to the works of Cheney and Co, and so there were a couple of older tracks which I could only bop my head to, but for the true believers out there it was all pure bliss. Another benefit of having so many other acts there was that the guys could do a couple of collaborations. The brass section from the Hunters and Collectors (above) did a couple of numbers, while Nic Cester from Jet showed up at the end to do a duet, then quickly scampered off as soon as it was finished. It was all done and dusted around midnight when public transport shuts down and becomes as reliable as it is during most of the day, so a taxi was my last act for the night. Damnit we should really get that car soon.


Act Two - The Next Day

The next morning I somehow managed to peel myself off my bed at the nightmarish hour of ten in the morning to look for birthday quiz prizes for Marcus' big 2-1. The entire night is 90s themed, which feels very odd since it really doesn't feel like it was all that long ago. It must be one of those things that happens when you get old. Better turn up that hearing aid, I'll certainly be needing it after that concert.

I was going to suggest going to one of those vending machines and trying our luck with the various coloured rubber balls that you can easily choke yourself with in the event that you get dragged into a Shannon Noll gig. Basically it's cyanide for those who can't afford such a stylish demise. But of course that would never do, and it would have to be a pretty awful party if people had to resort to that kind of behaviour.

We looked around Northland for a bit before wandering into Toys R' Us for more inspiration. In yet another sign that my generation is getting on in year, we came across battery operated supersoakers... so you can sit back in your lazy chair and spray someone from afar. The evolution from crossbow to semi automatic weapon reflects an increasing efficiency in the way water fights are carried out nowadays, and it won't be before long when we face the threat of Iranian ICBMs drenching us from the other side of the world, mark my words. Though really the question has to be asked: where are kids getting ammunition from in the days of Stage 3A water restrictions? From some highly illegal black water market? A secret water cache hidden in some warehouse? Insurgents carrying out death runs against an oppressive foreign regime? The answers are both many and pointless, my friends.

We eventually settled on a travel version of Battleship and a Michael Jackson CD. We didn't get the CD at Toys R' Us, though the irony and creepiness would've torn a hole though many a parent's moral fabrics. Going through a record store with someone who knows a thing or two about music is a lot of fun, especially one who knows a lot about bad music. Marcus and I wandered around for ages trowelling through CDs, badmouthing as many artists as we could. Bargain bins are definitely good at times like these.


Act Three - Resolution and Anti Climax

Afterwards I ventured out into the far east to pay Blair a visit. When I jump over to that part of town, we usually end up getting some videos, argue in the supermarket over our indecision concerning dinner and playing cards. New titles in the video stores are always nice though if you watch too many flicks at the cinemas you only have yourself to blame when you are forced to watch third rate movies, with several of them starring Steven Segal. Video stores have the best and worst of movie titles, including a plot about volcanoes about to burst and the only solution is to dig a very big hole in the middle of New York.

Eventually we settled on Knocked Up and Big Trouble In Little China, a really old film starring Kurt Russell and Kim Kattrall of Sex and the City fame, and happens to be an earlier John Carpenter production which I found odd, mostly because I was half expecting an alien dog to burst out of someones head at any given moment. And I also confirmed what I had known all along about Kattrall and her so-damn-fine acting skills. It's odd how at this stage there are no signs of how great she must be at sex, having written a book on the subject. Seriously though, if being on that show is all the expertise you need, then half of the women in the US could write their own columns.

The movie has aspects of Chinese mythology in it which was cool where spirits flew around riding lightning bolts and gliding down corridors. Having an escalator installed in the throne room of your secret lair might seem a bit tacky, but it does help make you look effortlessly lazy as you make you escape up the escalator and through that giant skull shaped door. And can someone explain why the bad guy is so desperately searching for a girl with green eyes when all he has to do is go down the street and get one there? He's living in San Francisco anyway, it seems like too much trouble to wait 2000 years for a Chinese girl with green eyes, as rare and freaky as that may be.


Epilogue and Director's Commentary (No Easter Eggs I'm Afraid)

Well that's all the bandwidth I've been able to waste so it must be time to run. Bad movies are always fun to write about, but they might have to take up separate posts in future, I'm not quite sure. If you've skipped ahead to this part, I thank you very warmly for doing so and hopefully I'll be able to write something shorter next time... Yeah right.