I can't believe I just spent 6 minutes waiting to see if some guy I don't know picked his nose in public. (I think he's a saxophone player – the guys sitting on stage look like musicians waiting for another piece – and I think the sax on the stand belongs to him).
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Okay. That's enough. Coffee break's over. Back on your head.
Whoever post it, dealt it.
And the guy on the piano was like totally lip syncing the whole thing.
I can't believe I just spent 6 minutes waiting to see if some guy I don't know picked his nose in public. (I think he's a saxophone player – the guys sitting on stage look like musicians waiting for another piece – and I think the sax on the stand belongs to him).
I forgot how much I hate Bartok. Horrible.
The dress was the icing on the poop cake.
Somewhere a figure skater loses her cool at the dry cleaners.
Love Bartok.
Hate the red dress and the formalities.
I could be more critical, if I was clueless about the complexities of this kind of music.
No accounting for taste.
The dress was atrocious, the music mediocre, and I saw no booger mining, which might have been funny.
Taste is a matter of opinion, and you know what they say about opinions.