I don't even know who this is...
Now THAT! THAT was a weekend! You know that you've had a good one when it takes more than 24 hours to recover to the point where your innards are no longer in a state of uprising and turmoil. The physical pain I can deal with, I'm sure my neck and back will eventually recover. It's the constant and rather disconcerting feeling that my entire collection of organs is marching will ill conceived collective purpose towards the nearest orifice in a unionist attempt to overthrow the governing body. Not that I blame them, mind you. They are only designed to withstand that much punishment.
It all started in Constantia and a rather tiring jog down to the party bus pickup point armed with a cooler box full of the heaviest supplies. Finding the best balance between having enough beer and the perfect weight to counterbalance a lopsided trot is an ongoing experiment in controlled inertia. Needless to say, dripping with sweat, we fell onto the bus only to be greeted by the 3 midgets from Insane Clown Posse. As it turns out they were in fact teenagers and were part of a black metal band. Somehow, at one of the pick up stops I managed to agree to listen to their demo whilst restocking the cooler box at Midmar. Can't wait.
We finally arrived at Metal4Africa's flagship event, Summerfest 2012. Four hours of heavy drinking on a moving bus later. The scene was set...
Let's just say I am grateful to be alive. There were LOADS of people. The atmosphere was one of total heathen debauchery and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives. At this point it should be made clear that my recollections of the actual event are largely hazy, but I do remember a few wonderful moments. All the bands that I saw were thoroughly enjoyable and were greeted by a magnificently receptive crowd. By dint of being the freshest in my furry fog of a memory, the stand out performance of the night would have to go to Theatre Runs Red, although I remember thinking to myself at the time "Wouldn't it be fucking awesome if metal bands learned how to write hooks into their material?"
So after much loud mouthed metal head behaviour, lots of hot little chickies in skimpy outfits, having a civilised re-acquaintance drink with my old friend Mr Blackheart and witnessing and being part of the general mayhem that usually goes with a gathering of 700 loons, it was time to board the bus back home.
Cue more drinking (the cooler box was still not empty and needed to be carried back). Eventually tired and happy we arrived back at Univer City, where we duly lit a fire and drank and braaied til 6 in the morning - at which time it seemed a splendid idea to pass out on the couch and test The Hot Girlfriend's resolve and clinging on abilities. By the time we eventually got home-home, it was time to flop down on my bed and die. Yesterday was a struggle. Couldn't even make it through the afternoon movie. Possibly something to do with being happily horizontal on the folded out sleeper couch. Many thanks to Dean The Machine. No one knows how the fuck he manages, but he does.
Anyway. That brings us up to speed. I am at work. I have been at work for roughly 5 hours. For the last 4 of those hours, the pranksters occupying the realms of Celestial Deity have conspired to make things as unpleasant as possible. First we had the chain gang busting up the road with their pneumatic drill for a pleasant hour or so. Then we had the tar-putty-downy-trucky-thingy and the other truck in some sort of constant backing-up beeping mode. They're back at it with the drill by the way.
I am going to shoot out of here at the stroke of 4 and race home, where The Hot Girlfriend is waiting patiently, hopefully with the intention of administering some much needed tender loving care. I can't write TLC, that is a character in the ongoing story I call my life.
On a much more upbeat note, however, Neal Goldwyer is back, imparting his nuggets of wisdom and caustic catch phrases. Can I have a "Hallelujah!"
NGDG: "Someone is sending emails NOW. And going to bed with clear conscience and intentions of coming in late. Neal will get in at Sparrows, confronted by this madness, by lies, confusion and panic. Then comes the weekly team meeting. Or as I like to call it 'the BDSM toy of belittlement, reprimand and scowling contempt." All before breakfast. This is why I eat soft foods.
Spread The Love. If You Know Where It Is.