So. It's Friday again. And while some people would exhort you to smile and appreciate the cleansing, relieving feeling of the woes of the week washing off you (not unlike peeing in the shower), I would rather get directly to the point of Friday. To be as irreverent as possible. I know it's something I am still trying to shepherd into mass acceptance, but at least it has the seal of approval of DrHellCuz. As he is nothing if not irreverent.
So go forth and piss people off this weekend (note shower reference). Especially if you see the popo. The bastards ambushed me in another roadblock last night. Luckily it was the one night a year I was actually under the legal limit. Booze to blood ratio, not statutory age of consent. Get your mind out of the gutter. There's barely enough place for mine.
Also, you are hereby ordered to hurl as much abuse as humanly possible at your television sets tomorrow and Sunday morning, during the Rugby World Cup semi-finals. Ja, ja. I've heard too many people say they're no longer going to watch since the all-conquering Springboks were so unjustly ousted, but do me a favour! Of course you're going to watch, secretly hoping the Aussies become the latest recipients of new exit holes. And that the underdog Welsh will perform unkind fornication upon the All Blacks in the final. Go on, just admit it.
At least we have a decent hooker for the next 4 years, even if he has a bizarre name.
Or am I just revealing my ignorance?
Other than the rugby, the weekend is shaping up to be quite the exciting affair. Tonight, as last night, I shall dine at the home of the Sister (and fellow DSW conspirator) and the Brother-In-Awe. Along with the folks. Best I take along the good wine.
Tomorrow Axxon is once again at it, with a fire-n-brimstone practice, all geared towards your self enlightenment. Nah I'm just kidding. It's for your aural pleasure. Ok, okaaaaay. You got me. It's so we can blow you away with a wave of awesomeness the likes of which you have (obviously) never before experienced. Your demise and rebirth are scheduled for the 5th of November (remember, remember...). Do not miss this. War At The Fucking Warehouse II...
Moi? Self indulgent? Perish the thought!
Over and above all that insanity and wearing pants and making pahty-pahty (yes Tahty Fahty Tequila Pahty will be there, naturally) I still have to find time to replant my jasmine. As manly an endeavour as any, I'd warrant.
Anyway, I think that brings us up to date, although I feel I may be a bit light on the Irreverence-o-meter. I think I need to go to DrHellCuz for a refresher course. People be unfriending us at a rate of knots on the ol' FaeceBoobs. More's the pretty.
NGDG: "It's a good job I watch so much Dexter or this pesky census worker could cause trouble."
Spread The Love. Pass The Bottle. Something's Not Right...