Arrgh

Arrgh


Arrgh.

Sometimes you just gotta say it...so here, in the manner for which it was truly intended...

AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH

Not in a bad way, though. Arrgh like "Arrgh, it sure felt good to get that splinter yanked out of my thumb" or "Arrgh, playing upright bass can suck but it sure feels good when you stop" or "Arrgh, I just unloaded 3,000 pounds worth of Marshmallow Peeps and now it's Miller time" or "Arrgh, my cat weighs a fuckin' ton" or "Arrgh, it's 12:30 and I'm just rolling in to my driveway after a long-ass dress rehearsal at Triton College and I got up this morning at 6:00 and I have to do it again tomorrow" or "Arrgh, I'm sure glad I didn't vote for Bush" or "Arrgh, it's like majorly time to unbury the Moose from the back of the garage and tell the record-profit oil-baron jerkoffs where to stick it."

Oh, and speaking of bikes, have you ever ridden anything so fast it made you feel like you were going to shit your pants? I did, Saturday night on set break at the Venice gig. Thanks, Fred, for letting me take it for a spin, and I'm happy to tell you that I didn't put any additional miles on your new front tire because it was off the ground the whole time. Well, maybe except for when I had to stop. There's a new name for "Instant Brown-Stain Maker" in the Webster's Thesaurus, and its name is "Triumph Rocket III." I gotta get me one of these. It a) sounds like a Ferrari, b) looks like something out of a comic book, c) will do 90 in second gear and d) will instantly suck the skin right off of your skull if you're not paying attention. Did I mention it's fast? Oh, and also, it's black. Blacker than midnight in a mole's asshole. Blacker than a power outage in a mineshaft. Blacker than a really, really black thing. How much more black could it be? The answer is none...none more black. Well, maybe a little. Anybody got an extra $15,000 they can spot me? I'll pay you back next week, I swear.

This is as random a blog, I guess, as it is possible to post. Truly the hoofprints of lack of sleep and overworking and the fact that there's 50 bones left in my bank account and the Mouse is back in the shop and the Dragon's full to the gunwales with gear and I'm driving my dad's minivan.

Well then. Off to beddy-bye, I guess, and hopefully I'll make more sense upon the morrow.

Skoal!