It's ok! You can come out now! UNTAG is here!
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Unless of course it's pornography and the lovely young lady's mouth is otherwise occupied, but you get the idea. This picture, although using less than a thousand words, says it ALL!
And speaking of ingesting semen, I give you "Baking with ball-batter!" I recall two friends of mine being particularly enamoured with Flanby at one stage not so long ago...
Delicious AND nutritious? Shall we ask the lads on the poster?
And on a related topic, just to get you all in the mood for tomorrow night's festivities, here, go and watch Entombed - Albino Flogged In Black. You'll thank me. In a Universe-inverting twist of affairs, I actually prefer their version to the one done by Paradise Lost...
So, you miss me? Has your world been sorely lacking my misguided musings? I fucking hope so! Apologies all round for disappointing all 3 of you with my online absence. You are legion? Well, I've had a pretty up-and-down week, and haven't felt particularly like spreading the love, so I abstained from my usual daily screen-jizz. For the sake of keeping the content classy, you see...
Well, I can report that Saturday's recording session went particularly well. It started off with scones and coffee, and the awesome surprise of seeing my first band's poster still proudly displayed (blocked and mounted, nogal!) in the studio from when we recorded there 13 years ago! Made me all warm and mushy. From there, it just went swimmingly. DDD moered the living shit out of his kit! I'd almost forgotten how loud acoustic drums can go. Definitely way past 11. I didn't fuck up too badly, LordDoom was superb. (I shall refrain from making any "slapping" references, mainly because I still don't know exactly what it means...) And Wikkle Poon broke his "real studio" cherry with aplomb! All in all, a wonderful day and all round great experience. You will, naturally, hear the fruits of our labour in due course. We like to keep you waiting. Do you even believe me? I'm in a BAND, baby!
That's the good news. The bad news is that my car, the one I love so dearly, is currently beyond resuscitation. The poor dear has been standing outside my work like an ailing, aging hooker for two nights now. Do NOT get me started on the "service" provided by my insurance's affiliated tow truck brekers. They have called me no less than 50 times since yesterday and they still haven't gotten their shit together. I await with very, very feint hope that they will finally be here at the designated time this morning, like Valkyries, to carry the old girl to Valhalla. Sorry, been watching Vikings and listening to Amon Amarth. The BeardGod would approve, and probably rip me off about it, since I often - and very publicly - state my distaste for Barrel Merrils.
Speaking of Merrils. Tomorrow night! I'm so excited! (You read that like in the Pointer Sister's song, didn't you?) Yes, tomorrow night. Tomorrow night a group of grumpy old farts otherwise known as the cream of local metal musos, pay tribute to a fallen idol. Jeff Hanneman's tragic passing will be paid homage in the only fitting way - by playing his music FUCKING LOUD! And of course, by attempting drowning ourselves inside out with Heineken. So if SLAYER has played a part in your life in any way, and I can't think of anyone who hasn't been affected by at the very least South Of Heaven, Reign In Blood or Seasons In The Abyss, then get your saggy arse on over to ROAR and enjoy a night of awesome metal the likes of which you will probably very rarely ever experience again! I'll be there. Getting "fieslik faktup" whiff mah DrHellCuz. He'll be the doos in the Lars Ulrich shirt. See you all at the War Ensemble!
Here is the part where I alienate myself from everyone that has ever loved me. The entire internet is losing its mind over the fact that that guy from Jersey Girl is supposed to be the next Batman? Really, who gives a fuck? Clearly EVERYONE! Except me. I don't like comics. If I wanted to experience people in dodgy leotards making life better, I'd go and sit outside the glass walls of the aerobics class in the Tygervalley Health & Racket circa 1991. And before you accuse me of being a Jozi Shore style lifter in my youth, here is a fun little story of the time I tried...
I used to do a lot of gym work for swimming. The swimming itself lasted until puberty and the realisation of the fashion sensibilities of a Speedo collided. Anyway, so my scrawny arse is in the pit surrounded by biceps and popping veins, thinking perhaps my arms and legs could do with slightly more than the skin tautly wrapped around them. I stroll nonchalantly over to the squat apparatus and put on the weight I remember being able to handle from a few years before. Ready, steady, squash. The thing had me pinned with my knees next to my ever-more-crimson ears. I looked like Amber Rayne in one of her more risque scenes... And I had to be helped out of my crushing predicament by two 'roided up stevedores, who were doing their best to stifle their chuckles. The thing about glass walled aerobics studios is the leotard ladies can see out as well. After a hasty departure which probably resembled Flash (to completely labour the point), I have never been back in a gym again...
And on that delightful note, when you've had the chance to dab your cheeks, I'm out. Have an awesome weekend, all of you! Especially Ou Vrou. Hope you have the best birthday today!
NGDG: The heartwarming story of a pop star who hugged a vagrant. Lady Gaga. I wouldn't hug that. She's probably covered in salmonella.
Spread The Love. Swallow!
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