Misha and I went to see Stereophonics play their only Sydney gig for their Language. Sex. Violence. Other? tour, and while we knew we were up for a great night, I wasn't quite expecting what turned out to be one of the best nights I've ever had out in old Sydneytown.

The concert was to start at 8pm, with the support band 67 Special going off for an hour before the real deal. I had to be at work at 8am the next morning, so I had resolved to see the gig and head straight home afterwards. So what does one do in a situation like that? I organised to meet Mish at the 3 Wise Monkeys for some pre-gig drinks at 6pm.

Rocking up half an hour early and forgetting my new kick-ass earrings, I was cold and hankering a Jack & Coke. Having bought my drink, I perched myself on the second floor and watched the relatively sober crowd come and go. I took my time and messaged Mish, who was running a little late, so I decided to head to the bathroom and check out what was going on elsewhere.

Earlier on, I had seen a timid looking barely-out-of-her-teens brunette weave her way through the masses, looking a little more than tipsy. Half an hour hadn't even passed when I found myself looking down the stairwell to see her again, absolutely hammered, talking loudly with a guy in a dodgy suede jacket about her plans for the evening. Seems she had only met the guy shortly before I'd walked down, but being alone and perhaps slightly FUCKING MENTAL, she agreed to spend the night with him after the unmistakably sleazy question was posed, "Do you want to fuck?"

Walking back upstairs slightly discombobulated, I had just claimed a new perch when I spotted a single British guy looking around nervously and reaching for his phone every two seconds. I found it thoroughly amusing, ignoring the fact that I was doing exactly the same thing. I watched his body tense up as he answered his phone, then watched his shoulders slump and lean into the wall for a bit of privacy. This happened about once or twice before one of two Asian women sitting next to him came over and asked him something.

The next five minutes were excruciating to watch. Obviously, she was trying to pick him up -- either for herself or her friend, who kept looking over her shoulder, giggling, and batting her eyelids. Some flailing of arms and vigorous nodding/shaking of heads ensued before she slunk away, completely dejected. I felt kind of bad, but it was funny to watch at the time.

Another distraction before I hopped on the sauce... Crazy puffy jacket guy who wore a royal blue do-rag. He was pottering about, asking everyone in the bar what the time was, getting rambunctious and awkward. I was planted in the deep, dank recesses of the bar so I was pretty safe, but he was getting close and I was starting to get anxious. I was shocked into reality again by Misha -- she had arrived, and about bloody time, too! She asked where I was sitting and I jumped at the chance to head outdoors so I could come back in with company. The 3WM was filling up, and everyone was getting more demented by the minute.

We sat around and downed four bourbons/vodkas together, talking about how life's been treating us since we last got together for M's birthday drinks. A grotty looking dreadlocked guy came around and asked me for a cigarette. I had a full pack in my bag, but the ATM was right behind him and the smoke machine was downstairs, so I told him I had smoked the last of mine. He smiled and slapped me on the back goodbye. I decided not to smoke again out of paranoia, but when we polished off our last drinks, I absentmindedly lit up. I know, I'm a douche. I hadn't seen him around the place for about an hour, and he decides to walk down the bloody stairs again like Miss America just as I'm taking a massive drag. Luckily, he wasn't looking in our direction.

Hailing a cab wasn't a problem, though finding a gap to hail a cab was. Misha wondered if she should run out between cars, but decided against it when we realised there'd be nowhere for the cabbie to stop, so we walked a little further up and pushed in front of some indecisive Asians. Misha asked me if we pushed in. I said, 'Who cares?' Yeah!

Sitting in the cab, we ended up talking about my family and how I left. We were deep in discussion and nearing Newtown when the cabbie turned around and asked if he could offer some advice. He harangued the both of us about how we should be appreciative of the fact that our mothers carried us in their wombs for a whole nine months and that because of that fact alone, we should be forever indebted. Great point, in theory, but that wasn't really my situation. Misha and I had a little mini-snap, and after the both of us thanked him for his pearls of wisdom, went on to explain that I came from an abusive home and that my neither my biological parents or my adoptive parents cared or wanted me around. We gave him our cab money, but he wouldn't let it go, he still had so much more to say. I threw in the descriptors 'junky' and 'whore' and 'physically abusive' into the mix, purposefully making his argument shite. He threw in 'Allah' and 'God' as if those words would move us, but they didn't. Eventually, he shut up. He still stood by his word that family was everything, and after I agreed with him on that but asserted that my family begins with me, we got our change and got out of that crazy lecture. Honestly one of most painful $15 we'd ever spent.


...to be continued, with pics...