Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Seal the deal.

Honest, I had something of great import (can we get a result from the judges? Just how many entries have opened up this way in the history of this site?) but an enjoyable evening with the Evil Needle by my side has rendered my brain so much mush. Well, so much mush until I trepan out the excess liquid sloshing around up there and replace it with coffee and donuts.

Or Cheerios.

Probably better that I employ Cheerios and skip the donuts since I suspect my body is already awash in, and feebly attempting to, process an overabundance of sugars that are attempting to work their way through my system without causing any major organ failure. No, doc, I’m not a diabetic, but if I keep this up I may be more than just playing one on teevee.

Actually, I will 'fess up. I am sick. Sick in that midsummer night's cold sort of way. It sucks. Who gets a cold when it eighty-two degrees outside?!

Regardless.

This is a busy week, no? We’ve got the legendary and long in the crock-pot stewin’ to perfection CD release show for the inimitable yet heavily influenced/influential local stars The Ladies & Gentlemen this Friday. One would have to be certifiably insane to miss – wait, come to think of it most of my friends are certifiable so perhaps that is not the best cliché to employ in this instance. How about this: Only an idiot would miss this Friday’s show.

By the same line of logic let’s threaten the populace with grand idiocy if they dare to miss the following evening’s (Saturday the 15th of July) massive dose of irreplicable entertainment in the form of a certain somebody DJing for hours and hours and hours until the sun is just about ready to revisit the morningscape of our city by The Lake. In English, you ask? Are you beating a dead horse, you ask? What ever could you be talking about oh dear sir, mister sir, grand sir, Tankboy sir, you ask?

Okay, I’m going to level with you. Yes, I am repeating myself an awful lot about the super huge DJ gig I have at The Continental this Saturday. The reasoning behind this textual nagging is simple; I want to evening to be unfuckingforgettable.

In order for that to transpire, I need each and every one of your pretty little bodies packing the joint from 11pm on. It is essential that I get you folks to show up earlier in the evening so the train can properly pick up speed until the partygoers are crashing like breakers against the drunken stumblies tottering into the place at 3am. I need everyone, at that point, to intermingle and tear the roof off the joint so all the newbies join in the fun and learn what it’s really like to lose yourself.

That’s why I’m sounding like a broken record. I want you, and me, to create an unforgettable experience together.

Hm. I guess I did have something to say after all!

By the way, have you downloaded the Snakes On A Plane tune in mp3 form that I so generoursly offered to you? Hmmm? Hmm? Hm? Have you?

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