I can't even waste efficiency points
making up an analogy or quip for this-

unless you're a hairstylist or something,
Madonna really sucks live.

She jumped on the bill late and for one reason or another (probably contractual constraints) got put in the dance tent. My friend who drove me to the show loves Madonna, so I reluctantly missed Mogwai and accompanied her over there. As we settled in the Dance Tent and waited on Madonna, I couldn't help but notice that next to us were a couple of girls who looked like Barbie dolls from thirty yards. What happened next was a window into an interesting sociological phenomenon...

I saw a mild-mannered sorority girl completely change her personality over the course of an hour.

It was nuts.
When we first got to the tent Blonde Girl #1 was happy and kept smiling at her friends and to anyone who would look at her.
She began TXTing and calling other people she knew in order to tell them of her good fortune. Then things got really crowded in the tent. Insanely loud sighs and whimpering noises commenced.

The guys in front of us seemed to only exist for two reasons:

1) to go to the gym

and

2) curate/maintain their own artistic facial hair and sideburn permutations.

They seemed to be more than friends.

Unfortunately for Sorority Sue, Travis kept on bumping his hindquarters into her chest area.
It angered her even more that this buff guy was not doing this to attract her attention, but instead in efforts to wildly explain his thoughts to his friend Steven...in conditions that were increasingly crowded, sweaty, and uncomfortable. Forty-five minutes went by like this.

Then her face got red. She seemed to get quiet.

Suddenly she roared like a little pink tiger and unleashed three rabbit punches to the back of Travis' head. No shit.

Travis scrunched up his face and turned his head around. He would have probably turned more than his face, but everyone in a half-mile radius was completely surrounded by other people and could not move.

Sorority Sue then grabbed her friend's hand and launched herself into the crowd, moving in the opposite direction of the stage. Her voice hung in the air longer than her bodily presence. We all watched her leave the crowded area...not like a fish swimming upstream, but like a tornado towing a girl in a Juicy Couture tank top.

My arm was red from her nails.

Travis rubbed his head for a sec and turned back around.
It was then that I knew I witnessed what Sun Tzu spoke of in The Art Of War:
"Humble words and increased preparations are signs that the enemy is about to advance" while "Violent language and driving forward, as if to the attack, resigns that he will retreat."

(or...)

It takes more than three punches to drop a gay guy waiting for a Madonna show.

Oh yeah, the show was kinda wack.
She came out thirty minutes late for an hourlong set and dropped maybe four songs.
They all sounded the same. People who already worship her were drooling at the fact that she looked really skinny and played some open chords on a Les Paul.
Using those standards, I must be a badass when I play bad versions of Black Keys songs on my Tele in my bedroom between Crim Law and Torts classes.

I must rule!
Sike.