Monday, February 4, 2013


Jeesh, where to even begin!

Friday I enjoyed after work drinks with the Tableau Vixen and then had to haul ass home and back to get my footie gear - it was good to be back on the park. After that I had The Hot Girlfriend and our AWESOME home made dinner date. I'm REALLY getting spoiled these days, I tell you!

Saturday morning, after some scampering around to buy enough beer, etc, it was time to park the car out of harm's way and get on the Party Bus to Metal4Africa's Summerfest '13. The bus was already a monstrous party in itself. We made new friends, we had pink stuff poured down our throats straight from the bottle. We loudly made fun of everyone until they gave up and laughed along with us.

Eventually we got to Stellenbosch and the venue. People were milling around, still getting into party mode, while we were already 16 sheets to the wind. DJ Egghead was providing the perfect "mood music" outside and everyone hugged everyone else like we were a huge tribe of long lost friends.

Now at this point I must make mention of the fact that I am currently nursing a severely damaged left elbow - it's missing most of its skin - and a pretty banged up right forearm. This suggests a rather one-sided collision with something a little more immovable than my scrawny self. My money's on the floor. Let's put it to you another way. From here on in it's a large collage of fuzzy, hazy and happy memories of watching bands and causing havoc. On the evidence, I had the time of my life. I can't tell you exactly how, who, where or when, but I can tell you I had fucking truckloads of fun. Apparently. Later on my good friend, and Rocky's chick, found me unconscious somewhere in the vicinity of the dancefloor. I hope I had a grin on my face and I at least remembered to take my hand out my pants. The moral of the story is that although I'd love to give you a blow by blow account of the bands that performed, I can't. Collectively, they saw to it that I was having way too good a time to be lucid enough to remember any of it. But from what I have heard from just about everyone else that was there, it was as expected, another stellar night of amazing performances, shaking the metal community out of its natural lethargy and kicking a few arses. Wonderful. Well done indeed once again to Braidy Bunch - you know the event was a roaring success when you can't remember how unforgettable it was!

Ah, Sunday morning. And a vague feeling of having gone a few rounds in a large industrial tumble dryer - that old familiar feeling! Treated to a breakfast of champions and a cursory inspection of new war wounds. Then it was a very necessary nap and getting ready for the hordes to descend for a nice quiet braai. Which turned out to be anything but quiet, although not much physical strain was involved. Unless you count the earth shaking when THAT LAUGH presented itself again.

So here I sit. I feel like absolute shit. Reminiscent of Danny Glover sitting on a toilet in which a bomb has been concealed before a be-mulletted Mel Gibson yanks him full body into a bath and the immortal words "I'm too old for this shit" are uttered with a wry smile and pants around your ankles...

NGDG: I'm starting a new chapter today. The unnumbered nouveau roman style however, where intertextuality, self referentiality, and formulistic subversions make it all but impossible to define what difference it makes.

Spread The Love. And The Milk Thistle.

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