Afternoon ye landlubbers! Hope it's as nice where you are as it is here in the Mother City. Soon to be renamed the Motherless City, as it's almost beer'o'clock for some of us.
As the inked hordes descend on the annual Tattoo Convention, the rest of us (and others) are going to be at Mercury tonight for UNITED UNDERGROUND II - a celebration of musical diversity in the dark, damp, dank underbelly of the underworld. Or, in more sensible terms, a great big fuck-off shiny gig featuring the best of metal and punk playing alongside each other on one stage on one night. Isn't it glorious! Representing the metalheads - in the red corner - are the saviours of swagger and shred, Sabretooth, and the bullies of brutal bottom end, Bulletscript!
And in the blue corner - taking up the cause of the punk(ish) fraternity - the highjinkery of Half Price and the sonic sweaty stomp of 7th Son!
And at the bar, stationed right by the Black Label Draft tap (I know... I'll never learn) and propping up the bar between shots with Sidney (greatest bartender on the planet), this old git. Pretending the music is too loud to hear what you're yelling at me...
Which brings us super conveniently to last night's dinner debacle. There I was. House freshly scrubbed. Fresh ingredients bought. Beer fridge fuller than usual. About to metaphorically roll up my sleeves and start choppin', when the phone rings. A rather sheepish voice on the other end informs me that "I got he dates wrong and already cooked for everyone - would you mind coming here instead?" Luckily they caught me just in time and I was whisked off to an evening of festivities that included the biggest leg of lamb I have ever seen. I almost saddled up and went to town. Anyway, now I have to make the wunder-meal planned for yesterday, tonight, lest the perishables, um... perish. I will probably be eating the same thing all of next week. Good times!
Ok I'm just going to put the cricket on - and that's me for the afternoon. Cheers everybody, have a wonderful weekend. And, in the words of my wise Dad "If you're not in bed by 10, go home".
Oh, that reminds me of a wonderful line I gleaned from an article on how fucked up the youth of today are: "Grow a backbone, not a wishbone." Or something like that. Priceless.
NGDG: Stop it! Stop the war! Naughty!
Spread The Love. What, Like In The Back Of A Volkswagen?
Oooh, I think I shall have to invite meself to dinner. Can't have all that food and beer going to waste can we??!
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