One time I didn't know whether to weep / scream / wet myself / fangasm / all of the above...
*if you came here for coherence, you are about to be disappointed*
When I woke up this morning, I was fully expecting my next post to be a reaction to Sleeping Beauty, which I watched last night, for the first time since childhood, but-
OH MY GOD, PEOPLE, EPIC SHIT JUST WENT DOWN IN MY LIFE.
To start at the beginning:
I'm sitting in my room, this pm, writing some beta-feedback for someone on sherlockbbc , when my mother comes in and says 'start getting ready, we leave at quarter to five.' So I'm like, 'oh, we're going out?' and she's like, 'yes, it's a surprise. Wear something smart.' So I put on my new 80s smock-dress and my favourite moonstone ring and manage to get my hair done despite the mouthy electrician downstairs who keeps cutting the power.
So, I go downstairs and both my parents are standing in the kitchen, dolled up. So I'm all, 'que??' because my dad is just not the type to be in on this sort of thing. I'm totally baffled, but ready to roll.
Soooo, we get in the car, and toddle off to Torchwood city [aka: Cardiff], troll through traffic for a bit, stagger through the cold to the CIA [that's Cardiff International Arena, not the American police body] and I'm already fangirling a bit because the last time I was here was as a kid when I went to see The League of Gentlemen ! Live [including Gatiss! XXO] So, at the very least, I'm intrigued. So, I'm checking out the other people milling 'round the building: and they're all me-analogues - my age, groovy, rocky or gothed out clothes, piercings, tatts, dreds. Y'know. Cool. And I'm thinking, 'okay, they look like a Ross Noble sort of crowd, but I've already seen him once this year and my dad would never stomach Le Grand Surrealist, so it can't be him.'
So, we reach the box-office, and they've got POSTERS on the wall showing who's playing.
First off? Russel Howard, and I'm like, 'y-eah, that'd be pretty cewl, but mothership doesn't like him, so: NO.'
Next to him? Elton John, and I thought, 'again, could be kinda groovy, but again: pater would NEVER get behind that.'
So then I look next to Elton and THERE, STARING AT ME, was a poster of-
it was t-
-T-
*has an aneurysm*
WAS A POSTER OF TIM MOTHERFUCKING MINCHIN.
*FLAIL-DIES-FLAIL-DED*
OH MY MOTHERFUCKING GOD, THIS MAN.
THIS MAN, OH MY MOTHERFUCKING GOD.
I have JUST THIS MINUTE got back from a THREE HOUR SHOW in which we were RIGHT IN FRONT IN THE STALLS, and I don't know whether to weep from envy at the SHEER FUCKING SICKENING TALENT of the man or from JOYNESS at the AWESOME, AWESOME, AWESOME, JUST FUCKING TOO AWESOME TO DENOTE MUSIC!! He did LOADS of new material [a big-band number about Cheese, a song taking the piss of a Christian guy who tried to convince him God had performed the miracle of curing his mother's cateracts, an EPIC but beautiful Lullaby in which he wished a dingo would eat the head off his fat bitching baby, LOL, another my mother has dubbed 'The Motherfucker Song' about the Pope, a beautiful song about Beautiful Songs and why t'is a pity Beauty is such a whore. The list goes on!] Plus ALL my favourite songs - Rock & Roll Nerd, You Grew On Me, Prejudice [about a certain taboo word. A couple of G's, an N, and an I. YEAH. *hushes voice* ginger o_O], the Feeling-like-the-smallest-one-in-a-Babushka-Doll song, and a truly spectacular rendition of DARK SIDE [ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH! DARK SIDE! I'VE ONLY JUST FINISHED TEACHING MYSELF IT ON GUITAR AND THERE HE IS FUCKING BLOWING MY MIND WITH IT! >__<.] to finish, followed by a reeaally sad and pretty song about Christmas. *wibbles*
[This was after theTWO standing ovations and TWO en cores, btw.]
I- Seriously. I do not have the words to articulate how brilliant he was/is. Even my father, who typically despises with a passion anything I've deemed 'good' thought it was magnificent. Stupendous. He had an ORCHESTRA and a SMOKE MACHINE and a BAD-ASS CAGE and a PLATFORM THAT ROSE UP FROM BELOW THE STAGE and a light-show and- and- and- GARGH! I have seen live music, ballet, opera, plays, stand-up comedy and sketch-comedy live, and this is HANDS DOWN, the BEST. SHOW. I HAVE EVER SEEN. [AND they were filming, so I might end up on a DVD!! >__<. ]
[And as if to totally rip the piss out of my already drooling fangirl mind, Tim mentioned that HE DID A JOINT GIG WITH ROSS NOBLE, DOWN UNDER!!!!]
You know you've had an awesome evening when someone has shouted 'CHEESE' at your idol. The irony is, for all he decries organised religion, Tim is TOTALLY setting himself up to be worshipped. You just cannot rock a stage that hard without creating some idolatry. Funny how some people are so talented you go straight from, 'I think that person's swell' to 'MARRYME&FATHERMYCHILDRENNOW!!' XOO
*calms down*
*coff*
So, er-
Yeah.
I'm off to dye my hair ginger, &/or tattoo 'TIM MINCHIN OWNS THIS SPACE' across my forehead.
Night night!
-CC.
ps - how awesome a night has this been? SO AWESOME THAT I DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER TO MENTION THAT IT'S NOW SNOWING AGAIN.
ROLL ME OUTSIDE, FANDOM! XDD
When I woke up this morning, I was fully expecting my next post to be a reaction to Sleeping Beauty, which I watched last night, for the first time since childhood, but-
OH MY GOD, PEOPLE, EPIC SHIT JUST WENT DOWN IN MY LIFE.
To start at the beginning:
I'm sitting in my room, this pm, writing some beta-feedback for someone on sherlockbbc , when my mother comes in and says 'start getting ready, we leave at quarter to five.' So I'm like, 'oh, we're going out?' and she's like, 'yes, it's a surprise. Wear something smart.' So I put on my new 80s smock-dress and my favourite moonstone ring and manage to get my hair done despite the mouthy electrician downstairs who keeps cutting the power.
So, I go downstairs and both my parents are standing in the kitchen, dolled up. So I'm all, 'que??' because my dad is just not the type to be in on this sort of thing. I'm totally baffled, but ready to roll.
Soooo, we get in the car, and toddle off to Torchwood city [aka: Cardiff], troll through traffic for a bit, stagger through the cold to the CIA [that's Cardiff International Arena, not the American police body] and I'm already fangirling a bit because the last time I was here was as a kid when I went to see The League of Gentlemen ! Live [including Gatiss! XXO] So, at the very least, I'm intrigued. So, I'm checking out the other people milling 'round the building: and they're all me-analogues - my age, groovy, rocky or gothed out clothes, piercings, tatts, dreds. Y'know. Cool. And I'm thinking, 'okay, they look like a Ross Noble sort of crowd, but I've already seen him once this year and my dad would never stomach Le Grand Surrealist, so it can't be him.'
So, we reach the box-office, and they've got POSTERS on the wall showing who's playing.
First off? Russel Howard, and I'm like, 'y-eah, that'd be pretty cewl, but mothership doesn't like him, so: NO.'
Next to him? Elton John, and I thought, 'again, could be kinda groovy, but again: pater would NEVER get behind that.'
So then I look next to Elton and THERE, STARING AT ME, was a poster of-
it was t-
-T-
*has an aneurysm*
WAS A POSTER OF TIM MOTHERFUCKING MINCHIN.
*FLAIL-DIES-FLAIL-DED*
OH MY MOTHERFUCKING GOD, THIS MAN.
THIS MAN, OH MY MOTHERFUCKING GOD.
I have JUST THIS MINUTE got back from a THREE HOUR SHOW in which we were RIGHT IN FRONT IN THE STALLS, and I don't know whether to weep from envy at the SHEER FUCKING SICKENING TALENT of the man or from JOYNESS at the AWESOME, AWESOME, AWESOME, JUST FUCKING TOO AWESOME TO DENOTE MUSIC!! He did LOADS of new material [a big-band number about Cheese, a song taking the piss of a Christian guy who tried to convince him God had performed the miracle of curing his mother's cateracts, an EPIC but beautiful Lullaby in which he wished a dingo would eat the head off his fat bitching baby, LOL, another my mother has dubbed 'The Motherfucker Song' about the Pope, a beautiful song about Beautiful Songs and why t'is a pity Beauty is such a whore. The list goes on!] Plus ALL my favourite songs - Rock & Roll Nerd, You Grew On Me, Prejudice [about a certain taboo word. A couple of G's, an N, and an I. YEAH. *hushes voice* ginger o_O], the Feeling-like-the-smallest-one-in-a-Babushka-Doll song, and a truly spectacular rendition of DARK SIDE [ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH! DARK SIDE! I'VE ONLY JUST FINISHED TEACHING MYSELF IT ON GUITAR AND THERE HE IS FUCKING BLOWING MY MIND WITH IT! >__<.] to finish, followed by a reeaally sad and pretty song about Christmas. *wibbles*
[This was after theTWO standing ovations and TWO en cores, btw.]
I- Seriously. I do not have the words to articulate how brilliant he was/is. Even my father, who typically despises with a passion anything I've deemed 'good' thought it was magnificent. Stupendous. He had an ORCHESTRA and a SMOKE MACHINE and a BAD-ASS CAGE and a PLATFORM THAT ROSE UP FROM BELOW THE STAGE and a light-show and- and- and- GARGH! I have seen live music, ballet, opera, plays, stand-up comedy and sketch-comedy live, and this is HANDS DOWN, the BEST. SHOW. I HAVE EVER SEEN. [AND they were filming, so I might end up on a DVD!! >__<. ]
[And as if to totally rip the piss out of my already drooling fangirl mind, Tim mentioned that HE DID A JOINT GIG WITH ROSS NOBLE, DOWN UNDER!!!!]
You know you've had an awesome evening when someone has shouted 'CHEESE' at your idol. The irony is, for all he decries organised religion, Tim is TOTALLY setting himself up to be worshipped. You just cannot rock a stage that hard without creating some idolatry. Funny how some people are so talented you go straight from, 'I think that person's swell' to 'MARRYME&FATHERMYCHILDRENNOW!!' XOO
*calms down*
*coff*
So, er-
Yeah.
I'm off to dye my hair ginger, &/or tattoo 'TIM MINCHIN OWNS THIS SPACE' across my forehead.
Night night!
-CC.
ps - how awesome a night has this been? SO AWESOME THAT I DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER TO MENTION THAT IT'S NOW SNOWING AGAIN.
ROLL ME OUTSIDE, FANDOM! XDD