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Saturday, August 19, 2006

Hangin' with ma.


I had the best time at the Sherbert reunion concert with mum last night. Armed with the Melways and a tank of delicious petrol, we drove all the way out to Doncaster (kind of like what would happen if Melton and Coburg had sex) to the ‘Shoppingtown Hotel’ (kind of like what would happen if Melton was on the Gold Coast).

Being the groupie moles with crap feet that we are, we wanted to stake out the place early in order to get decent seats. Therefore, we chose to dine in the ‘Bistro’ at the venue. I must say that despite what you would expect from a restaurant with an indoor playground and a gaming room, we both had a decent enough meal (although there was the small matter of the solidified mountain of herb butter placed on top of my fillet mignon, and also the fat man on the next table that ate what appeared to be a stack of three chicken parmagianas stuffed with chips). I also had the privilege of paying $3 for the weakest, flattest flat white ever – and if that coffee is indicative of what it’s like living in the outer east of Melbourne, excuse me while I keep living next to the Cleenaway toxic waste dump in the good ol’ north west.

Apart from watching all of the MILF’s try and crack onto Daryl Braithwaite, the funniest part of the night was trading tips with the people lining up about how to get a seat once we got into the venue. I thought mum and I had a good plan involving wheelchairs and crutches, until the lady next to me said in all seriousness that she planned to fake a diabetic fit if she couldn’t get a seat. Classic.

We did end up getting good seats - that was until the band came on and Mum disappeared into the mosh pit leaving me holding the handbags and coats while she worked her way to the front of the stage like a love crazed teenager.

And despite not coercing Daryl into a drug-fuelled orgy in the back of a Sandman panel van, we really did have a great night. I highly recommend hanging with the over 50’s set – they really know how to boogie down, keep it real, and still be in bed with a nice cup of tea by 11pm.

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1 Comments:

Blogger nothing said...

Haha, I initially mis-read chicken as children and thought that was harsh, even for you.

August 21, 2006 5:13 PM  

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