CHOOSE YOUR OWN HEADING

The easiest way to get attention, I've found, is to blather on about boobs. Seems the Universe is full of all sorts of other people willing to blather on about anything. Unfortunately anything usually amounts to nothing more than their own opining or apparently under appreciated virtues.

Today I spent more time on Social Networking than usual (I know, is it even possible?) and I have come to the harrowing, if not entirely unsurprising conclusion, that most people themselves... are utter tits. Today I have seen seemingly intelligent individuals ALL repost the same fucking pictures. ALL of them, Which amounts to my feed being clogged by whatever 9gag brainfart is popular today. Everyone is oh so fucking unique. I tried unsubscribing, but then my feed died...

Anyway, enough of me complaining about other people on the internet, like everyone else does...

Today is a beautiful day. Not in the comfort zone weather sense, as the entire Universe is so quick to point out, but in the wonderfully existential sense. The one that comes with an undulling of senses as I am experiencing today. No hangover to mute the usual weary grating of mankind on my horrified perceptions. No buffer between their incessant mediocrity and my addled brain. Booze continues to prove quite an accomplished barrier between humanity and I. Sometimes too accomplished... Yet somehow I can't help shaking the feeling that I should be grateful for all the sharp new daggers of pain-personified that rain down on me in these brief periods of total lucidity. In that spirit I intend seeing if I can add one more day to my sociopathic sobriety. I'll keep you informed and we'll see how it goes. Or how long before I get homicidal. It's not withdrawal symptoms - it's shutthefuckupbeforeIkillyou symptoms.

Thank God I'm not in tech support.

But having a very necessary shorter attention span today, I managed to come up with the best letter ever - in a conversation I was having with TDB.

B. The best letter is B. B embodies so much of what is good in the world. So many pleasures. So many wonders. So, at the risk of quoting the internet, in no particular order:

Beer, Bacon, Boobs, Braais, Buddies, Bands, Blowjobs, Bosuns, and BC Rich guitars.

Oh, and thank you to every last one of you for reading. We've just hit 25,000. Spread The Love indeed...

NGDG: "Mountains and quaint rural villages are lovely. But what really strikes one while watching Le Tour is how beautifully smooth and maintained the roads are. True, French cars are notoriously moody but even in the industrial zones of the lower Pyrenees, an old woman could navigate her walker without a bump, a rape, a mugging."

Spread The Love. No Holds Barred.

MANICKLED TO MONDAY - NOT IN THE GOOD WAY.

Mondays. The Bangles sang about them. The Boomtown Rats sang about them. They hold a special significance in our subconscious - probably mainly because nothing provides us with more of a sense of camaraderie than collective suffering. And getting out of bed this morning was difficult...

But let's have some perspective here. Too often we malign Monday for the beastly prospect of a week's worth of work associated with it. I found it way more difficult to leave the warm inviting clutched of my bed on Saturday morning. Mainly because the Hot Girlfriend was happily snoozing alongside me. I found it hard to do anything when I woke up yesterday. I was in for'n parts and had a head full of tequila. Temporarily disorientated the first thing I saw upon prising open crusted eyes was Justin Bieber staring down at me with that expression of "I wonder why all the other girls have pubes already - it's just not fair, but I have lots of money, so that's alright plus I'm as dumb as rocks". Scary stuff. There were also the assembled cast of Toilet and various other nefarious creatures threatening me from the walls...

So this morning - at 5am - was a doddle by comparison. Besides, it was adventure time. Tarty Farty Tequila Party and I went for a pre-breakfast constitutional. In my car. Fun times!

Which brings me to the nap I intend having the minute I get home, since my internal clock is now out of whack. On a day like today, lemme tell you, this is going to be the nap to end all naps. Then a spot of light housework to get the blood flowing again before I sit down and make my guitar (and myself) gently weep. You see, I am going to take this rare practice-free opportunity to work on some top secret new material, a challenge that may leave me in frustrated tears. And I only have expensive wine left, so there are aggravating circumstances...

At least I won't have to cook, since I have tons of left overs after last night's winter comfort food epic. There is enough stew to feed the 5000. Perhaps I'll listen to some Crass.

Anyway, I am in a particularly splendid mood today, for those of you that care. Things are looking up and I'm feeling very positive about it all. Not that that isn't usually the case. It's just that today is kind of especially upbeat for me. Well, it is now... Clap hands.

On today's birthday wishing wall we have the ever-beautiful Lisel. Hope you have a wonderful day!
And an extra special shout out to Evie! We love you. We all miss you! And we hope that Bear is making an extra special fuss over you today!
Happy birthday the both of you!

NGDG: "I think I've sprained my finger. What was I doing? Wrestling manta rays? Cage fighting? No. Cutting a piece of cake."

Spread The Love. You Lift Me Above Myself.

SEX AND DRUGS AND WTF!?!?!

Raising the bar on blogging.

Firstly, I would like to address this sudden - and entirely inexplicable - misuse of the term Supergroup. If the current overuse of the word is to be used as the benchmark by which we determine the validity of the term and how it defines the band it refers to, then every single band that exists is a fucking Supergroup. With the exception of those that formed in a garage with no experience between them.

Now please don't get me wrong. I know some of the people in the bands to which I refer. One or two of them might even call me a friend if threatened to do so at gunpoint. My point however, is this: you cannot simply bandy about the term Supergroup because some okes that have all been in other bands before got together to make music. In metal we call that "pooling resources to stay relevant or active". And on the face of it, if the only criteria for being labelled a Supergroup means that everyone in the band has been active previously in a different band, then hell, I've been in a number of Supergroups! In fact, come to think of it one of my bands was labelled a Supergroup even though the bassist was a nobody. I disagreed at the time and I disagree now.

Velvet Revolver - now that's a fucking Supergroup!

Enough from me though. If the transient nature of the music industry demands a reshuffling and repackaging every now and then to keep the punters interested, then so be it...

And in other news, I was watching morning TV (surprisingly, this morning) and they had a feature on drug mules. There are 600 South African citizens behind bars around the world because they were stupid/desperate enough to attempt to cross borders with drugs in their possession/dreadlocks. One was recently executed. Now, crime is always tempting in a "risk vs reward" kind of way, but if I ran a real risk of being killed for my trouble, I'd probably shy the fuck away from the entire ugly business.

Which brings me to the essential problem I have with the whole trade. If you choose to do illegal drugs, I feel that is entirely your prerogative and none of my business. In fact, I have become rather more tolerant of the whole thing, as long as I'm not required to get involved. So the premise is there is a massive demand for drugs the world over, particularly those that are synthesized in laboratory conditions.
Here's the question. If the demand is there, why is the supply not fulfilled inside your own country instead of the hazardous and arduous gefuffle of importing it? The labs required to make anything these days are rudimentary at best and quality control is not exactly high on the agenda when you're cutting it for maximum street value anyway. The technology is as simple as a basic chemistry set and humidity control. I would imagine that it is as risky to operate something like this within your own borders as it is to have someone bring it in at vastly inflated prices. Simple business principles should be applied. Yes, I know someone else is taking the risk on an individual basis when they sidle up to a Customs Officer drenched in sweat with a few condoms worth of coke in their butts, but they're getting paid middle man fees. Anyway, I'm just curious as to why there is such a booming international trade in something that was synthesized using Jik, Mr Muscle Oven Cleaner and Handy Andy in the Cape Flats. Not exactly the headquarters of MENSA either, you'll have to admit.

Anyway, hope you all have a phantazmagorical weekend. I know I am certainly planning to. Tomorrow is a party at that place known as the Tequila Haus And Small Person Emporium. Prepare for some more awkward and embarrassing photographs...

NGDG: "When a beautiful woman runs her hand through your hair, the mature response is not to pull away instinctively. At least I didn't say 'dontouchme'. Maybe she thought I was merely adding good posture to great hair."

Spread The Love. Do It For The Kids.

INTERNATIONAL SEND YOUR BUDDY SOME TITTIES DAY!

Merc: "Mercenary" OR "Mercedes"...

It's the second one! INTERNATIONAL SEND YOUR BUDDY SOME TITTIES DAY, that is. I have no idea how legitimate or valid the date is, but I was sent this today by my friend who likes to wear black dresses, Nyte Roks. What is it with local alternatives and their preference to the word Nyte?

Anyway, it is a delight indeed - a veritably feast for the senses. I would have written eyes, but much like Cleavage Day, we all know it involves a slightly more complex stimulus package. I suppose you're interested to find out exactly what I'm talking about. Here then, without further ado, is today's Gallery o' Mammary. NSFW. Enjoy.

TDB says he knows half of them...

Anyway, today I feel much better than I did yesterday. Yesterday I was a little hoarse, not to mention hung over. Not that Tarty Farty Tequila Party was much help, taunting me for being a light weight and a general p*ssy. But the reason for feeling infinitely better today, other than a lack of Black Label Draft in my diet, is the fact that I've been a-retail-therapyin'. Yup, finally after all these years, I purchased a lovely little audiovisual device which I have had my eye on for ever. Halleloojahs! Not telling what it is though, since I intend surprising one or 2 of you, my gentle readership. Thanks mainly to Commander Conker for facilitating said purchase.

Anyway, today also marks the 3 year anniversary of me officially giving up smoking... and not a moment too soon! What with the government not having anything better to do than come up with exceptionally restrictive tobacco laws and padding their own personal retirement funds, I could have been one of the unlucky ones that is now treated like (more of) a criminal for being within 10m of a restaurant door as they enjoy their post-meal-puff. I can certainly understand that some of the more sensitive (p*ssy) non smokers out there can genuinely be affected if someone in the direct vicinity is "polluting their air" but by and large I think the laws are far too prohibitive, completely over the top, and downright bad for business. Smokers will continue smoking. And in so doing, continue to contribute in a very fiscally tangible way to the swelling of state coffers. The very coffers the incumbents so readily plunder (seems the ONLY thing they apply themselves to with any sort of vigour...)

It's called cutting your nose to spite your own face and is silly.

Once again, why can't humanity just apply some common sense and common courtesy? Why do we only do things that are forced upon us (and only when there is a clear and present threat of not getting away with not doing it)? A little consideration would go a long way.

From both sides.

Now I'm off to consider both sides. If I am to maintain my title as undisputed boob expert (haha! I said "pert". But then I said "ex" as well...) then I have to make sure I regularly brush up on the subject, left AND right. I'm off to see if this Gallery o' Mammary is everything it's expected to be. That sentence sounded like I was channelling a lesbian Barbara Streisand...

And as with any good turn, you, my wonderful online adorers, deserve something nice today. Anyone heard of Metal4Africa? Or the wonderful work they do in the metal community in South Africa (and beyond)? Not least of which is a massive bi-annual festival featuring the best of local talent. The next one is coming up at the end of the month and promises to tear you a new one, were you that way inclined. Winterfest '12 is gonna be magical. And mad. And magnificent! But wait! There's more. You can now download a free sampler featuring all the bands on the bill - how brilliant is that!?!?! If necessity be the mother of invention, then is innovation the sister of a happy pants party?

Oh, and before I forget, Happy happy birthday to our favourite BARRULUS! Have a good one mate!

NGDG: "Baby, turn the lights down low and lay your ass down. I'm trying to watch TV."

Spread The Love. And The Boobie Pictures!

DOUBLE TAP THAT ASS

Double tap. As in "to cap once more". As in "to recap". Ok, you twisted my arm, I'm running out of time and you need to know what went down last night.

Truth is I don't really remember all that much.

I'll tell you this much - Black Label Draft won a resounding victory.

Unfortunately Team Burger King floundered desperately last night, unable to sustain the lofty heights of intellectual super power or hold on to their hard won title without half the team. It was an entertaining evening nonetheless. You'd expect nothing less from Mike LMG Smith and Kevin I'm-a-sadistic-music-clue-guy Winder. I did, however win the first prize of the night - a bag of sweeties for "best chirp".

Reconvening at a bar downstairs after all the pleasantries, I do believe shooters were introduced into the proceedings and that's pretty much all I can tell you, except that a blast was had by all.

Which explains my very short post today. I'm barely able to breathe, let alone capable of cogent thought.

NGDG: "I don't know what's a more terrifying prospect for the future of this country: the ANC's proposed economic revolution, or strip-club king Mike Basson's themed night club, Avastar."

Spread The Love. On Blue People.

THE NEW BLACK

And I'm not talking about the recently empowered and engorged elite running our beautiful country (did I say "into the ground"?" Didn't think so). No, ladies and gentlefolk, I am of course referring to the return of the Main Event. The most important meeting of minds since forever. The single most cohesive collection on thinkers on the planet. Possibly the solution to what ails this withering world of ours...

Yes! Pub Quiz!

As I have explained before, Pub Quiz IS the new black! Tonight the glorious Team Burger King will attempt to defend their title of "Whela Kapela! We've finally won this fucking thing and beat the bastard nerd teams" against such illustrious opposition as The Mad Hatters and others. Failing this of course, we will claim victory in the fact that we are perennial under-achievers and are merely there for the booze and to heckle Mike "Get, get on the mic, get on the mic, Mike" Smith.

In the absence of our 2 star players, The Vi-King and Sheik Yerbouti, who are fixing cars in the Southern Cape, we welcome the better half of the DSW into the fold for the evening and celebrate the even more Burgerness of Team Burger King. All this and a bag of chips tonight! At Mercury! Can't wait. Too long my body has been wracked with the withdrawal symptoms of not enough Black Label Draft. Too long I have woken to feelings of only mild pain and only slightly distorted recollection. Too long have I managed to avoid the deathlike grip of regret that envelops my entire being. Not after tonight!

The inimitable Tarty Farty Tequila Party is picking me up in Basil The Family Saloon And Roadworthy Ruffian and we're going to show them who's boss. Or second in command. Or third...

Oh well, rough day at the office. Should probably wrap this up and get my weary arse home in anticipation of the big night.

NGDG: The phrase "seriously, stop! You're getting too thin." is powerless against the retort, "Poppycock! I want to look like Iggy Pop so I can fit into my see-through PVC trousers."

Spread The Love. And The Lust For Life.

ME SO HORNY

I am excited beyond excitement! I am finally going to watch Manchester United in action. For those of you about to launch into a tirade against United supporters, allow me to say this first. Do not lump me in with the average United fan. I have been loyal to this one team for longer than most of the readers of this blog have been alive. This is really a big deal for me. And the fact that I get to do so with a whole group of mates makes it even better. Even the Chelsea-supporting Hot Girlfriend is going.

That is, of course, if they don't approve the re-appointment of the Cape Town Stadium first. COSATU is calling for it to be converted into low cost housing. Take some time and read that again. COSATU is calling for the Cape Town Stadium to be converted into low cost housing. In the middle of Green Point. In the middle of the great big landscaped park. They actually think this is viable. I blame our non-existent education system. My 6 month old niece has better ideas in her nappy.

And in the glaring absence of an adjacent building, is it not an obvious oversight then to suggest the stadium when there is no place on which to anchor washing lines? The V&A Waterfront is simply too far away. Given the weight of the nylon string and water soaked Antie Miena se panties 'n' jerseys, the clothes will simply hang down to the ground and be stolen by the queues of people waiting outside. You know, the queues of people that actually qualified for the housing after having been on government waiting lists since 1994 but are forced to squat outside the new development because some shady/incompetent bastards have allowed scores of people to move in before construction is completed.

I'm glad to see the destruction of Mariner's Football Club was for such a worthy cause. Do you think the property owners in Mouille Point will qualify for flats there once their land value plummets so low they're also deemed poverty stricken due to outrageous bond repayments that can no longer be met?

At least this way most United fans will already be in the stadium at any given time.

The other option is apparently a shopping complex. As far as I'm concerned the only Game that should be allowed in that magnificent stadium is the beautiful game. Or maybe international rugby...

Anyway, enough ranting for now, it'll probably never happen. COSATU is probably just bored because no one invited them to the ANC policy inventing indaba. Where they sing songs, reword the previous campaigns' empty promises and flick through the 2013 Bentley catalogue.

We had a particularly awesome Sunday Roast yesterday at the home of Commander Conker and Rose Thorn, mainly because it is still the celebration week of Rose Thorn's birthday. Happy happy birthday!
There was even traditional Yorkshire Pudding - perfect!

Why is Gordon Ingesund, Bafana Bafana's new head coach, getting half of what Pitso Mosimane was paid in monthly salary - and less than half of Joel Santana or Carlos Parreira? Is the rest going towards low cost housing?

NGDG: "My rear windscreen needs a stick figure (me) and a little box (the amount of fuck I give about your brats and shopping-bag-laden trophy spouse)."

Spread The Love. Hug The Homeless. They May Just Be Moving In.