Feb. 15th, 2007

wickedflea: (Default)
Two years ago yesterday, the juror next to me pissed himself. Man, that was a surreal couple of weeks. I wonder what ever happened to Pejay Lucky and Bungee and Mop-Mop and all them.

GAHHHH, now people are getting food poisoning from PEANUT BUTTER? What the hell kind of sick world do we live in where the goddamn LEGUMES are getting mad cow disease?!?

Grack. Some computer guy just came to set up something on my machine, and he was wearing a gang of cologne. He left five minutes ago, and my office still smells like an anchovy's ass.

Strange dreams again. In one, I was at my grandmother's, and I had to leave for a haircut appointment. I walked outside and saw like 25 burnt-orange '57 Chevys parked all over the place, and there were all these car-club types standing around in jackets that matched the cars. After I finally made it to my car, I found that somebody had completely fuct it. All the glass was broken out, and the top of the car was obliterated. But I had a haircut appointment, so what could I do? I got in and started her up. It got me downtown, but it was sounding pretty ragged. And I wasn't sure I was going to be able to get a parking space, so naturally I ditched the car and rode my flying bicycle instead.

Then there was the dream where my dad and I were at a football team, and one of our team's players was tackling a guy and ran him right through a van window. Yap, there was a van on the field, and both players went through the window--only it didn't break, it just sorta moved sideways. But then, just for good measure, our guy took the other guy's face and started slapping it against the window. Then an ambulance came out, wrecked into the van, and threw medicine bottles all over the field.

An official then came out to announce that the resumption of the game would be delayed for exactly five hours and 22 minutes.
wickedflea: (Sgt. D)
The scientific results aren't quite back yet, but I feel safe in stating without a shadow of a doubt that S.O.D. is the greatest rock band ever. I mean, to kill as hard as they did, cross over metal and hardcore, AND write lyrics like "He'll pour gas on your kids, then throw 'em a match. He'll back his car over Grandma, then dissect her cat"? GENIUS. And that doesn't even get into the jawdropping rhythm guitar playing or the double-bass blasts. This was the most precise band on the planet, and they recorded Speak English or Die in a WEEK. Hands down, best album ever.

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