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January 1st, 2008

The Awesome that is Vanilla Ice



Vanilla Ice is, without hesitation, the worse live act I have ever seen. Scheduled to appear at one in the morning--well after New Year's--to perform for an hour, his forty five minute set was defined by lateness, a lack of charisma, stage presence, singing, and band.

Not only was he awful, but the Coogee hotel venue was, while a perfectly acceptable place to sit and drink, not really the place for music. An awful sound system, a smoke machine that could only be described as over zealous, and a set of bouncers that, when it came to clearing room around the stage, decided that they would get a table and place it on its side and use it as a battering ram, kind of explains their foresight and approach to the matters. In addition to that, I am sure that at one stage I saw some guy wearing the Borat Thong Swim Suit that he does being escorted out, while protesting that what he wanted, more than anything in the world, was to be on stage with the Ice.

At New Year's, about five minutes after the time clicked over, P (who said, 'How do you plan to write this up on your blog?') said, 'I am way too sober for Vanilla Ice.'

I (who never doubted Vanilla Ice's ability to give me something to write about), said, 'Tequila,' but there was none of that to be found, because, while drinks inside the house were free, they had a number of things they were pouring, and shots of tequila were not one of them. So, with the classy and desperate realisation that, if we weren't a little drunk for Vanilla Ice, we'd have a real problem--especially when he spent half the set with the mix machine, or walking around bashing a symbol with a drumstick, instead of, like, performing--we did what anyone in this situation did: we skulled cups of vodka and orange. That is, until cousin R appeared, and went for awful shots of coke and rum, which really, were just wrong.

But after enough free drinks, I was ready for the Vanilla Ice experience.

It was, I assure you, Awesomely Lame, and I regret nothing.

Welcome to 2008, people.



(As a postscript, afterward, Cousin R told me gleefully that she had touched Vanilla Ice. Touched him! With Vanillia Ice Disease now, we took her too the disease wards, and she has been there ever since, subjected to chemical scrub down. Later, as we sat outside ignoring her screams, P said to me, 'Have you heard that what you do on New Year's Day defines your year?' I can only take that to mean that MC Hammer will be touring in a mix of preaching and rapping, or whatever it is he does now, and I will apparently be there. In Borat costume, perhaps.)