I’ve been to the Big Day Out and St Jerome’s Laneway in the past week and it reminded be of some recurring thoughts I have at festivals or gigs.
- “Get off my foot, you fat mole”
- “Put your arm down, you fat mole”
- “He’s not Timbaland, seriously, put your fucking hand down”
- “Why are you here? You’re like 40. Raise your children”
- “You can’t dirty dance to this, so don’t try. We all know you’re a skank without the dancing”
- “I get it, you love this band, shut the hell up”
- “I wonder if anyone will actually do a Springsteen cover”
- “Fuck, this band started out good, and I said they were good at the time, but now they’re boring and I’m bored. Fuck, can’t yawn, will look like a big fake. Can’t yawn.”
- “So what, I yawn, I’m human, what are you God? You can read into my mind and tell that I like this band or not. Fuck you. Man these guys are boring”
- “MY BACK. GOD, MY BACK”
- “Hot chick and douchebag #39″
- “Who loves short shorts? I love short shorts”




