CLITORIS AWARENESS WEEK

Look what Stan found...

Well now... That would explain why we have that little hooded girl-part performing in Cape Town this evening. Un-Beliebable? Belieb-it!

But enough of that little squirt (see what I did there?), at least he is more rock and roll than Jon Bon Jovi's wife, who is alleged to have orchestrated (or castrated) Richie Sambora's eviction from the latest Bon Jovi Colgate-sponsored world tour. Apparently he was drinking too much and was always surrounded by groupies. So much for "Sex 'n' Drugs 'n' Rock 'n' Roll". Lemmy, Nikki and Dave would probably have fatal shits if their management ever told them to cool it on the being cool. Whatever has become of this world?

What a sad state of affairs...

I, for one, pledge to make up for this heinous affront to all things rock 'n' roll, and remain the belligerent drunk you all know and love. And, whilst we don't really write too many songs about sex, at least we have that fateful night when Rose Thorn and I penned one of our hits concerning the vapid nature of some women, under the moniker "Clitoris Face and Johhny Winter". I think it was 3 in the morning, we'd just got home and she was wearing a likely-shade-of-pink poloneck. And we were stupendously drunk. I still have video evidence...

Which brings me conveniently to self flagellation. No, not that kind! Although, "Hi, welcome to my gutter..." seems an appropriate greeting. I'm talking about punishing yourself physically in order to coerce your shape to shift into something less natural than its current form. The Little Sister and far better half of the DSW has a theory. Our bodies settle on the shape with which they are the most comfortable. My dear ol' Mum disagrees. I fall neatly between the two opinions. So I run in order to justify sustaining my alcohol intake. I could just as easily cut the boozing and lose the boep, but then I'd be no better than "No-more-backstage-blowjobs-Bon-Jovi"...

So I ran. And I ran. And I ran. Yesterday. After work. Furthest distance yet, after which I took the long, but scenic road home and ended up buying 5kg of carrots for a Fruit'n'Veg employee. True story. But I can tell you this for nothing: "MY BIENE PYN!"

Tonight I forfeit the running in order to strap on my stove-fixing-belt and pray-it-works-beads, otherwise it's Snackwiches for me. And I'll get drummed out of Dinner Club faster than if I served Cucumber Surprise to The Carpenter. Or lamb pie to his wife...

Oh, and I inadvertently discovered 'twerking' on the YooToobz. My eyes are still bleeding and I despair for humanity. It's actually regarded as a skill...? The horrifying thought of one's offspring one day embracing such an awful thing doesn't bear thinking about. I'd add a link, but I wouldn't be able to live with the shame.

But I WILL add THIS. For you. On this week of weeks! Oh, go on! You know you're dying to find out...

NGDG: Soon I will be swimming in the sea. The beautiful powerful violent sea. For the first time in 3 years. This time without a madwoman on shore spoiling my fun.

Spread The Love. But First, Spread The Legs.