(diaryland) January 3, 2001 - 19:44:14

Um, woah. It's 2001. That's quite taxing to remember to write down. Must remember there's a one in the year now.

I went to the Falls Festival, a music festival in the country, kinda like Woodstock, I suppose, except without actually being at all in the US. I went with my stupendously amazing best friend Rosie and a myriad of her dude friends.

On the first day, I was quite cheerful and I was surprised that I was. The tent was pretty easy to set up. There were many guys there; I supposed that chicks are less likely to want to bother setting up camp in the middle of nowhere and have really bad hygine for three days than guys. I soon found out that definitely wasn't the reason there weren't many chicks.

Early on the first day (no bands were going to play until the second day), I spotted this huge piece of painted carboard with a bunch of matching holes of various sizes cut in it. It was called the 'Boob-ometer'. The guys who owned the boob-ometer really, really wanted for all the chicks at the festival to stick their breasts in the holes so they could measure them and take photos of them. The guys booed you if you didn't want to do it. I was freaked out. There were guys who sat by the road all over the place who "pfwoar"-ed at you when you went past.

By the second day, plenty of the guys who sat by the road all over the place were a lot drunker than they were on the first day, and I had been awake for most of the night because of the people in the next tent playing a CD of a live Pennywise concert over and over again well into the night. In the early afternoon, Rosie and I braved the boob-ometer dudes and went shopping at the market near the stage. I bought a lovely bracelet thingy and Rosie probably bought something, but I don't remember what it was, if anything.

The first band I sat down and watched was Nitocris. As soon as they burst forth with their first song, I was totally itching to play my electric guitar then and there. But of course, I couldn't. They sounded a wee bit like Babes in Toyland and a lot like themselves. It was lovely.

The next band I saw was Sunk Loto. They were small and cute. They sound exactly like a lot of my favourite bands but for some reason this makes me feel very into them. Maybe because they rip off so well. The singer has tried to make himself look exactly like Jonathan Davis from Korn, even down to the pee-coloured glasses, but I forgive him because he is still pretty much an embryo. I think he has the most lovely voice, even though I know he has ripped off Mike Patton. Somehow, I don't mind. I get really pissed off when people try to imitate my favourite singers, but the Sunk Loto guy is allowed.

Then I saw the Avalanches. I am cool because I have their very first single on seven-inch. I hated that first single, but I've still got it, so I'm cool. The Avalanches have progressed so much since their first single, though, and now they sound splendid. There were millions of them up there on the stage, jumping around like little beans, but somehow, I wasn't completely enthralled. It might have had something to do with Rosie being upset with the dudes we were with, so we went back to our tents and tried to get some sleep as everyone else in the world were watching the Superjesus. As soon as the Superjesus finished, the Pennywise concert was cranked up again and was played at least twice. That pissed me off. I sang along to Bro Hymn, though.

The third day was December 31 and contained the reason I came to the festival: The Vandals. The Vandals were playing at nine that night, though, and I was awake by eight in the morning or something. Rosie and I queued up at the showers for an hour while a garbage truck down the other end of the camp had gotten stuck. The guys collecting rubbish thought it would be cool if they all chipped in and offered sixty-five bucks to the first chick to get their kit off while they were waiting to get unstuck. It was fucking sick. They yelled out that fat chicks weren't allowed to participate, and I wanted to slap them but that would have involved leaving the shower line and running through some thorny bushes. By the way, I was extremely sunburnt by then.

Eventually, I got to see some bands. I saw the Waifs, a folky feelgood kinda band, then I saw Rocket Science. They were so extreme corny garage rock, and they were excellent. They keyboard/singer had a theremin which he lunged at appropriately, and they just had a good time on stage.

Next up, there was Skulker, another band that had a ball while they were onstage. I don't have nuch to say about them except that I thought the bassist was the coolest chick ever. I would like her to be my special friend.

Then some stuff happened. I can't really remember what it was, but I just basically killed some time before Magic Dirt came on. Rosie and I ate dinner while we watched Magic Dirt, and it was alright. They didn't do as much crappy feedback as they did last time I saw them, which was nice.

Then came the Vandals. I almost pissed my pants I was so excited. Almost everybody attending the festival was down in the stage area by this time, so I thought that the bit right near the stage would be really crowded. It wasn't, to my surprise. There were just fifty-odd people down the front, wearing Vandals t-shirts and stuff, so it fucking rocked. I was right up the front. I was closest to Joe Escalante, the bassist. He had earplugs in. The Vandals played all the songs I wanted to hear and they played them with much flair. They were funny and together and they had as super time as I was having, even though my face ached and I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in yonks. It was even better than the last time I saw them a few years back, and it was kinda intimate because there were only a few people who were huge fans there. Warren Fitzgerald of course finished the whole thing off with his special song I Have a Date and he got completely naked and ran around in the crowd. That beat that last time I saw them hands down because last time he didn't take off his undies. Not that I wanted to see his willy or anything. Not in the least. I just liked the idea of complete birthdaysuitness.

Then silverchair came on and Rosie and I decided to have a shower. It was fun because we were the only ones there in the showers. Everyone else was down at the stage. We decided we had better go see the biggest band on the bill out of courtesy, so we turned up halfway through their set all nice and clean. Daniel Johns uses far too many guitars. Then it was the official turn of the millenium and since there were no official fireworks, everyone set off their illegal ones. Then we all watched Reef play and it was fun. Then we danced around and went to sleep.

The next day, we were all incredibly horrible-feeling. It was hot. I was red, damn tired and hungry. It took us hours to get ready to go home. It was just the pits. We found out that someone had stolen the boob-ometer guys' tent, though. Sweet, sweet revenge.