I just got off Faeceboobs IM with Mad Rob. He's recently become a father for the first time. Like so many others. I was duly informed of all the various wonders of diapers and the vocal ability of his gorgeous daughter. Not to mention the slight lack of sleep. Given that he's genuinely a crazy motherfucker, I took his nonsensical babbling as par for the course...
Anyway, at least one good thing came from it. Our conversation, that is. I can now make a smiley face emoticon without searching for some link. And we know that the accepted symbol for a vagina lookalike gives you a thumbs up. Coincidence? I think not.
Anyway, time to catch up. What did you get up to this weekend?
I had the good fortune and wonderful company of a very clandestine figure. And my Hot Girlfriend, obviously. A friend of mine was visiting "underneath the radar" as it were - sorting out all sorts of life altering arrangements. Good news to follow, ladies and gentlefolk. Watch this space! He cut a dashing figure in his all black ensemble, as a clue. As if the vast majority of my friends aren't already pretty much always in black. Ah! The plot thickens.
Saturday it was time to turn my hand to some studio magic and basic engineering miracles again. Not having done so recently, I was required to set up a vocal recording session. All I can say is: Imagine me in a small confined little studio space, tangled in a million miles of assorted cable and making up new profanities - the likes of which would make a sailor and your ol' mom blush. And on top of that basically boarding up the "alcove" I lovingly refer to as my home studio to try and soften the impact on my neighbours' ears as the pair of demonic vocalists from Axxon howled, sneered and screamed blue, bloody murder into the mic all afternoon. Whilst the rest of the assembled cast relaxed in the lounge with a shitload of beer. Ah I love recording. Can't wait to hear the final product.
Sunday was met with less enthusiasm. In fact, apart form the best omelettes ever made, the day passed by in a musty haze of duvet and Southpark. Until my DIY & Roast date with Tarty Farty Tequila Party. The Hot Girlfriend was designated at puppysitter, while I drilled holes and swore some more and Tarty made a Sunday Roast. Great stuff. The Tequila Cottage & Small Animal Refuge is coming along nicely.
And lest I be left out of the intrawebnets and shunned for all eternity - and lest you have not yet been bombarded by the tasteless, and frankly there's only been one good joke so far, gallows humour - RIP Whitney Houston. Who fucking cares. That is a statement. Not a question. If you are truly saddened by her passing or that much of a bleeding heart, do us all a favour and go out - today - and do something good for someone alive who deserves your time and effort. Show someone you care before it's too late. All this after-the-fact pounding of fists into the ash and crying "WHY!" is too fucking incongruous for words. Not one of you silly bastards has given as much as one fuck since the chorus of "I Will Always Love You" finally drifted from your subconscious in about 1994 - and then you were grateful. Go and be simpering and insincere elsewhere. Don't get me wrong. It's a tragedy that she lost her life relatively young. My heartfelt condolences to her loved ones that genuinely grieve. But please spare a thought for the less famous and the less fortunate that perish day in and day out without so much as you batting an eyelid. Perhaps you could pretend you give a fuck about those people too - at least a little.
Oh, you want to hear the only worthwhile joke, do you?
Hardly appropriate don't you think?
Anyway, back to life, back to reality.
And tomorrow's Hallmark Holiday. I'm a big fan of Valentine's Day. It gives me an excuse to make my better half feel extra special. Not in the "make that a double scoop with a 6inch nail" kinda way, just I like spoiling her, if and when I can. I'll tell you all about it when all the dust has settled. Can't give too much away, I'm sure she reads these little diatribes.
So, have a wonderful day tomorrow. And an awesome evening this Monster Moanday Night.
I'll be doing my best impression of a combination of Keith Kirsten, Martha Stewart, Riaan Die Nutsman and Slash.
NGDG: "I don't use LOL much but when a random Indian dude at the ENGEN asks the cashier for assistance in choosing a condom brand I think it's warranted."
Spread The Love. It's The Greatest Of All.