SHAVE-YER-GUAVA

The best dick pic in the interwebs! Say hi to our Prez 4 Lifebouy. A true dickhole of an individual. Uncle Bob, our friendly northern neighbour, approves.

But enough about this fool, let's talk about something else for a change. I've had enough of this pessimism and continual focus on how fucked we all are. Let's get a bit more lighthearted. Let's talk about Doom Metal. Yes, Doom Metal.

Last night's band practice was a barrel of laughs. And anyone familiar with our super-serious bassist will know that could end in fatality. He goes by the name of (on this blog) The Big One. Incidentally, every time someone says "Oh, that sucks the big one" I descend into paralysed hysterics. Anyway, his laugh is not only possibly the most infectious thing this side of the flu, but it reaches a pitch and a volume that is dangerous to the normal human ear. It's probably a good thing our collective hearing is shot to shit after so many years of hiding our music from everyone then. Furthermore, not only does his laughter induce general sympathy guffaws and the occasion wet cheek and/or pant, it has an effect on a tectonic level. You literally feel the earth move when he gets good and going. Last night was one of those nights. I think the word anyone casually observing the scene would have used would have been "incongruous". But now I'm just showing off. You can use "megalol"...

I jest.

All this after a mildly successful flinging of limbs along the Promenade and back. By "mildly successful" I mean "I didn't die". In fact, I finished the run in record time. There's no explanation, since I haven't run in forever. Perhaps I was so out of it, I read the time wrong. Possible. Even probable. Tonight we take the fight to the mountain. THE Mountain. That slab of beautiful, unforgiving cruelty, who mocks you and then spits your spent frame out like a scorned lover. I will conquer that bitch one day. With the help of my trusty personal trainer/mountain goat, Commander Conker. He'll be the one prancing about elegantly from rock to rock, cheerfully grinning at the mass of cursing flesh falling upwards behind him...

And then a nice chilled evening at home with The Hot Girlfriend. We'll watch movies. I have been very fortunate this Christmas again. She bought me a whole bunch of Kevin Smith flicks. Fucking awesome!
Also, I intend to investigate this "cut yourself for Bieber" malarkey. Will report back any findings.

NGDG: Operation Buy-any-but-the-most-obvious-Tom-Waits-album-from-anywhere-in-Joburg must be declared a failure.

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