Wednesday, 8 June 2016

Gut Krakens & Wheatus

Halp meee!  

This is not my finest hour.  Got a whole day off work today after I spent last night time traveling to 2001 at a Wheatus gig.  I had every intention of making the most of my day today by going on a lovely, long run, cleaning the house etc etc.  My stomach has other plans for me.  Every now and then, I get these bloody horrific stomach aches that enjoy surprising me when I least expect/want them (not sure anyone ever thinks there's a nice time to have your innards turn on you, mind..).  These spells feel like a small hedgehog is redecorating my insides with a razor.  Not much fun.  So with that in mind, this is how this morning has looked so far:
  • Woke at 5am and hunched and waddled like Quasimodo to the kitchen to do a shot of apple cider vinegar in the hopes that it'll appease the kraken my guts.
  • Fell unconscious again.
  • Spent a few more hours telling the baffled dog who was watching me adopt the fetal position "Owww!", to which he responded with a look that said "But you can still feed me though, yeah?"
  • Eventually gave up on the fetal position/pity party for one fun - seemed to be getting a bit better by that point anyway.
  • Ate cheese and Pringle sandwich.
  • Regretted cheese and Pringle sandwich.  Regretted it terribly.
  • Cried at a youtube video.
Yup.  Sorry state of affairs.  On the plus side, last night was as much fun as expected.  This was (I think) my fifth time seeing Wheatus live, because... well because I laaaav them!  I've been fuelling my obsession with their music since I was about 12 and bought Teenage Dirtbag on CD single from my local Woolworths for a couple of quid.  I still have it somewhere.

Christ... Woolworths. The only place in the early noughties where you could satisfy your simultaneous cravings for a top 10  chart single, an all-you-can-fit-in-the-pot-as-long-as-the-lid-stays-on pick 'n' mix and a tiny can of pink Mr Blobby lemonade in one trip...Sigh.

Fuck me, I'm old.  

Right.  Wheatus.  Here they are.  Sort of.  What?  I'm a blogger, not a photographer!

...and here we are!

If I was smiling any harder, you'd see skull

...and here... is how A and I looked at the end of the evening's festivities at midnight in McDonalds.

Witness the fitness, all.  

Some highlights of the gig:
  • Being in a venue (The Scene, Swansea) that was small enough for me to be able to count the individual nose hairs on one of my favourite bands if I'd wanted to.  I chose to take the less "terrifying stalker" route of hanging back by the bar instead.  Hence that last image that you've just had burned into your retinas.  Sorry about that.
  • Wheatus don't tend to follow a set list.  Instead, they take requests and make it up as they go along  -playing what the crowd want because they're magical and lovely like that.  My shrill screams didn't register with the band, so my friends kindly banded (haw haw) together and deafened half the room on my behalf. The song I wanted to hear got played.  Ow. My cold, stony heart.
  • Getting so uhh.."merry" that the bar tender looked at me as though I had a screw loose when I kept asking him for a Cornetto.  Until he realised that I meant I wanted a Corona.  Same difference.
  • Getting to see mother effing Wheatus do what they do best - host a loud, happy, sweaty dance party! 
Ruddy good night! Now. I've just remembered that I've left my car 7 miles away in town and my only mode of transport until A gets home are my legs.  I'm going to go tell myself I'm going to run to it, get changed into my kit and then sit quietly weeping at my gastric discomfort until A comes home and offers to drive me to fetch it instead.  Busy day, people!  Much to do!  Hope you have a good 'un =)

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