Totally rocked out! No photos, I'm afraid. But I can offer you this text message, as proof that the mortgage is starting to take effect on my bank account. It was sent to C when I realised I couldn't afford two bottles of Becks at the bar. Augh! What is the world coming to???
But beyond lack of beer funds, this was a brilliant gig. Three very cute Swedish guys playing 20-minute hard rock versions of their normally sweet, folkish songs. (Coincidentally, Peter is the cutest, followed by John. Sorry, Bjorn!).
Three drunk and beautiful Swedish girls, drinking VB from the can with straws, spent the gig rubbing their tanned Swedish bodies on everything male in sight (much to the discomfort of said men). And a photographer from The Brag singled C and I out for photos and insisted I wear my glasses. Should I be flattered? Do I look (as C suggested) more Swedish in my glasses? Hmm.
One downer, however, in the form of a Round-Faced Troll from my past. She used to call me Pimple Queen, if you think my blog name for her is overly harsh. She also did everything in her power to humilate and alienate me through a whole 6 years of high school. I didn't need the help - I was, and am, quite capable of alienating and humiliating myself all on my own.
I feel vaguely better for knowing that she is now a Torts lawyer and on the way to being a barrister. I think she'd look perfect with a horsehair wig perched on the top of her very round head. And I'm sure Pimple Queen is an outstanding name to call people at the Bar.
Does one ever recover from the lingering ache of high school cruelty?
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