And when a Blog entry begins with an opening sentence like the one above, I become aware of two things: 1. that it epitomised one of the better weekends of my life and 2. I am slowly mutating into one of those creatures that watches amusing things with the inner monologue of "This is great... I can't wait to get home so that I can Blog about it!" But then I usually drown out #2 with copious amounts of girly drinks and everything becomes pretty in the world where Anni can actually dance. And stuff.

Saturday commenced with a shift at The Fortress of Evil that lasted long enough for me to finish with "Ummmm... John will take care of this for you... my shift is over and I'm outta here". As an aside, may I mention that old people are the biggest a-holes in the consumer food chain? It's as though they believe that because they 'had to trek 50K barefoot (with ingrown toenails) in the snow carrying dyslexic lesbians' in their day that they deserve special treatment. By 'special treatment' I of course mean treating young sales clerks like the drug fuelled, seal clubbing hooligans that they are. That, and they usually smell like moth balls... and I'm allergic to moth balls (I'm also allergic to the stench of bodily fluids, but that applies to the demographics of many men, women and children that I have to encounter on a day to day basis).

Speaking of stench, I then spent the next two hours on the train to visit A2A Angie in her brand new mansion of success over on the other side of town. When her classy 'better half' came home (whose first name I always forget, sober or otherwise), I then sat through enough burping, farting and grunting to turn me off married life for another decade. However, it did prepare me very well for the crowd over at the Caboolture RSL, where Mr Blunt and his band Majestic awaited.

A2A Angie's mum was very excited to see the Queen tribute band. By day, she is a very successful (and rich) figurehead in the real estate business. But by night, she becomes the alcohol-fuelled puppet of zee dance floor, shaking her thang whilst her toy boy holds her bag and looks tough in the direction of advancing male competitors. An example was Mr Qantas, who latched on to A2A Angie's sister Bev for the entire night. Not only did Mr Qantas share his entire life story, but he also made an obvious crack by trying to use his role as an ex-employee of a certain airline to get a hold of some non-bogan goodies (which would have been exceptionally rare in that part... and my own part of town). When Bev gave him the age old "I have a boyfriend" line, he headed straight for A2A's Angie's mother and her Bold and The Beautifulesque looks (ASIDE: imagine a group of five attractive people, one bogan [Mr Qantas] and one albino/vampire/pseudo-intellectual [myself] for this exercise). A2A Angie then poked the bear that is her mother's toy boy, who opened with, "What the f*ck do you think ya doin', mate?". Mr Qantas merely smiled, complimented the clenched fist on how lovely his woman was and proceeded to the dance floor. Toy boy was left speechless, although I think it was because Mr Qantas got a tad too close to his man tukhus when patting him on the back in desperation.

Mr Qantas sure could dance though. It was cross between those crazies in the Fatboy Slim 'Praise You' music video and the l33t skillz of A2A Angie and me in a home video that will be hitting her mailbox next birthday (which, funnily enough, was also to 'Praise You'). Convinced that he was desperate to find love (or at least something warm to hit and scream "Squeal like a pig" to), I wasn't surprised when I saw Mr Qantas trying to hit on a couple of preteens on the dance floor shortly after. Ironically, Freddie was singing 'Somebody to Love' at the time.

"That should be his [Mr Qanta's] theme song. He wants SOMEBODY. Men, women... or children."

The band was great. In fact, they were so good that the majority of patrons were running over to buy merch and hunt for Johnny Blunt's autograph after the show. I must admit that the guy was a dead ringer for Freddie on the stage, so when he came out looking completely different, a lot of bogan mutton chops and bingo wings went flapping about as single ladies thrust themselves (or their hair-lipped daughters) in the direction of the good Sir.

Bev's first reaction, "Definitely gay."

Note to true believers: you know that you've had way too much to drink when you start getting kissy-eyed ala 'Perfect Match' over a man in a lycra body suit and feather boa.