Yesterday was murder. Except for the dinner-and-a-show part right at the end.
Yesterday was corporate hell. I stood naked before the world, no piercings with which myself to defend.
Contrived, I know, but I have been concentrating on things other than my prosaic droppings for some time now. As I'm sure you've noticed. Most people say the rather more uninspiring "work's been hectic hey!" but I feel I owe you a little more than that, my dear genteel reader.
Let's see, what happened to me over the last while... I maked a cake again. Part III! The Hot Girlfriend was over the moon! No dogs were allowed to lick anything in the commission of this master piece and the only dish / spoon shenanigans were restricted to the inside of the dishwasher. The rest of the birthday celebrations involved me slaving over a hot stove or a hot braai - a lot. There may or may not have been some wine involved...
Ooooh! Ja! SUBVERS also played their first house party! As reported in my last post, we decided to get back to basics and break out the party tunes. Having set up our PA system and after undergoing the time consuming face painting make up ritual (it was a horror themed party), we mightily bestrode the corner of the lounge and rocked out like so many garage bands before us. If you don't know what I'm talking about, see just about any American college movie ever made. And now imagine us doing that!
It was wonderful! We pumped that place so full of smoke, you'd have sworn blind you were at a Sisters gig in the mid 80s! And of course we topped this particular cake with the cherry that is "Scotty Doesn't Know!", the ultimate house party classic. We may even have duped a few individuals into enjoying themselves...
But wait. That's not all! If you go down to the woods today, that means you'll have Saturday free. What! Did I say "Saturday"? And "free"? In the same sentence?
Yes, my fellatio-owed followers! Saturday SUBVERS once more soil the stage at Mercury with their particularly lewd and lurid style! And with the return of THE DAMNED CROWS, who join us on the night to celebrate a milestone with our good friend Captain Awesome, shit is gonna get torn up good and proper. So put on your party hat, pop on a discreet adult diaper, smear on some lipschtick and drag your gloriously gaggin' arse down to the one and only Mercury for a night of heavy breathing, heaving bosoms, and heavenly noise terrorism!
It's FREE!
Read that again.
IT'S FREE!!!
In keeping up with the Kardashians, and the rest of the world as it devalues music and everything else, including even the most modestly veiled morals, fuck it! Captain Awesome brings you this extravaganza of excess at no cost to your good self. And the bands are performing for him, for you, and for free!
CRAZY!
And speaking of crazy, I have a damn panti-gram to complete... hullo! Make with the little black g-strings!
On decks all night is the one, the only, the inimitable DJ Reanimator, spinning your choons of choice and keeping your booty bopping until the wee hours. And by wee I don't mean "incontinently drunk". Although I'm sure that is most certainly not ruled out...
Spread The Love. Buy The Birthday Boy A Drink.
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