October 3, 2007

Having never been partial to a tour of Xtina/P!nk proportions wherein tickets are so madly sought after that weary eyed queues form out from of ticket agencies, I’ve never sympathised with the crowds that flock to buy big event tickets. Well, I was not only served a hefty portion of humble pie last Thursday, I had the whole thing mooshed in my little face, crust up the nose and all.

After gushing that I was going to be the happiest kid in Festy Hall come January 30 at Rage Against The Machine, it didn’t once occur to me that I might be robbed of the chance to see them entirely (and no BIGDAYOUTDOESNOTCOUNT shuttuuuuppp). While ordinarily I would merely assume their selling in seconds was testament to a rabid fan base, a quick visit to Ebay would suggest that my constant net rejection and the painful beeps of the engaged ticketmaster line were due in most part to greedy shits who were to scalp the tickets online for thousands of dollars each.

For the life of me I cannot find words -deep within the vast piggy bank of profanities that takes up a considerable portion of my peabrain- to describe the rage I felt at inexplicably missing out on tickets (despite hiring family, friends, pets, monkeys with typewriters and their illegitimate slave monkey children to hit up ticketmaster for me) that are instantaneously dangled in front of me by pimply turdburgers for 20 times the price.

Last Thursday I was truly reduced to four year old in candy isle at Safeway status and it took every ounce of self control not to drop to my knees with arms flailing, and spasm on the shiny linoleum until someone righted all the apparent injustices in my world…As this bitterness is clearly sign of impending breakdown, I’m headed overseas for a while. Keep sending your stuff in, Core will just go cosmopolitan for a month. Cosmo-core. Rock.