Baseball and Other Such...
...Bands.
That's it folks. Baseball the band, not the sport.
I know I have been absent and I apologise to my readers (both of you) but I have naught in my head worth sharing with any of yous cunts. Whilst my life has been full of pleasures and surprises lately, it has mainly been squashed to popping point with stress and thought overload. My time on the pooter has been dedicated to such joys as applications, research and serious letter writing...and perhaps pouring over photos of myself, "hmm, don't I look nice there?" Head shots my friends, not google goodies or porn shots. Professional vanity.
Anyway, I will again be absent for some time as I am fucking off outa here for a three day beach retreat and not long after to Shmadelaide to put my acting and pole dancing skills (a questionable use of that word but I'm sticking to it) to the test. Not telling you how or why, I'll leave that to the imagination.
But I couldn't resist sharing one last experience with you before I depart and that is the musical hilarity that had me giggling my night away last night:
Baseball!
They are a local* hard rockin, defying all stereotypes band. Too lazy to google I will just refer to them by their instruments: on lead vocals and thrash metal violin was David Tredinnick** in a troll wig, whipping up a tarantella frenzy on the floor (or O.D-ing on crystal meth - not too sure). He had me in utter stitches all night with his huge intense eyes, unintelligible loud and probably very important lyrics and violin mayhem, finishing the gig with about three strings left on his bow. Then there was the drummer who looks like a mid west American librarian named Connie, complete with tidy little blond hairdo, black rimmed glasses, pretty cotton blouse and a sweet, friendly and approachable "hi there, how can I help you today?" and "you have a nice day" smile, which got sweeter with every little look of delight and surprise when she hit a drum kit with the funny little wooden stick in her hand. I couldn't stop watching her. Who'd have thunk?!?!?!? She sat and sweetly hit the kit as Tredinnick conjured fire and demons and she occasionally let out an almighty burst of (pretty awesome, I must say) lyrics. I then started to imagine all the kinky shit she probably gets up to (and films) in a latex rubber cat suit. She was such good value. Then the female bass player and her swapped instruments and she mastered that fucking kit like nobody's business with an equally entertaining wide eyed look of concentration and delight. Awesome!!!!!!
They, along with The Night Terrors (do go see them) and Colditz Glider (don't bother) were just warming the stage for the awesome spectacle and musical feast of Spod. A must see!!!! He, as someone very dear to me pointed out, is a "male Peaches". He completely stands out from his black hoody covered hard rockin band with his suit and constant pouring of glitter and confetti on himself and his adoring audience, handing out roses and taking photos - camp as a scout in a tent. He is a truly fuckin' sick-arse, shit hot, unreal performer (I just couldn't say awesome again) and he never even broke a sweat! Fuck me if I could hear what he was singing about (I was pretty much deaf by that stage) but I can only assume it was sex. And now for the best part...he had three guitarists on stage! I will repeat that for the slow and the for the equally as excited as me: THREE FUCKING GUITARISTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know I didn't say "fucking" the first time 'round and therefore shouldn't have misquoted myself with those little "", making myself vulnerable to all sorts of libel law suits against myself but this is my last blog for a while and I'll do what I want so get over it. Anyway, that's completely beside the point:
THREE FUCKING GUITARISTS!!!!!! And they rocked so good, so hard and so tightly that I wanted to scream. Actually I did.
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! More of that please.
And more of my Favourite Thing Today please: Corn thins with sweet chilli sauce, pickles and cheese gently melted under the grill. Yeah baby! Yes I am hung over. No I am not pregnant. They were made for me by a man and I'm pretty sure he's not preggas either.
Love you!
Take care out there in the big bad blog land.
XXXX
*there is only one local and that is Melbourne so get with the program if you haven't already.
**come on, you know it wasn't really him. At least I'm pretty sure...
That's it folks. Baseball the band, not the sport.
I know I have been absent and I apologise to my readers (both of you) but I have naught in my head worth sharing with any of yous cunts. Whilst my life has been full of pleasures and surprises lately, it has mainly been squashed to popping point with stress and thought overload. My time on the pooter has been dedicated to such joys as applications, research and serious letter writing...and perhaps pouring over photos of myself, "hmm, don't I look nice there?" Head shots my friends, not google goodies or porn shots. Professional vanity.
Anyway, I will again be absent for some time as I am fucking off outa here for a three day beach retreat and not long after to Shmadelaide to put my acting and pole dancing skills (a questionable use of that word but I'm sticking to it) to the test. Not telling you how or why, I'll leave that to the imagination.
But I couldn't resist sharing one last experience with you before I depart and that is the musical hilarity that had me giggling my night away last night:
Baseball!
They are a local* hard rockin, defying all stereotypes band. Too lazy to google I will just refer to them by their instruments: on lead vocals and thrash metal violin was David Tredinnick** in a troll wig, whipping up a tarantella frenzy on the floor (or O.D-ing on crystal meth - not too sure). He had me in utter stitches all night with his huge intense eyes, unintelligible loud and probably very important lyrics and violin mayhem, finishing the gig with about three strings left on his bow. Then there was the drummer who looks like a mid west American librarian named Connie, complete with tidy little blond hairdo, black rimmed glasses, pretty cotton blouse and a sweet, friendly and approachable "hi there, how can I help you today?" and "you have a nice day" smile, which got sweeter with every little look of delight and surprise when she hit a drum kit with the funny little wooden stick in her hand. I couldn't stop watching her. Who'd have thunk?!?!?!? She sat and sweetly hit the kit as Tredinnick conjured fire and demons and she occasionally let out an almighty burst of (pretty awesome, I must say) lyrics. I then started to imagine all the kinky shit she probably gets up to (and films) in a latex rubber cat suit. She was such good value. Then the female bass player and her swapped instruments and she mastered that fucking kit like nobody's business with an equally entertaining wide eyed look of concentration and delight. Awesome!!!!!!
They, along with The Night Terrors (do go see them) and Colditz Glider (don't bother) were just warming the stage for the awesome spectacle and musical feast of Spod. A must see!!!! He, as someone very dear to me pointed out, is a "male Peaches". He completely stands out from his black hoody covered hard rockin band with his suit and constant pouring of glitter and confetti on himself and his adoring audience, handing out roses and taking photos - camp as a scout in a tent. He is a truly fuckin' sick-arse, shit hot, unreal performer (I just couldn't say awesome again) and he never even broke a sweat! Fuck me if I could hear what he was singing about (I was pretty much deaf by that stage) but I can only assume it was sex. And now for the best part...he had three guitarists on stage! I will repeat that for the slow and the for the equally as excited as me: THREE FUCKING GUITARISTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know I didn't say "fucking" the first time 'round and therefore shouldn't have misquoted myself with those little "", making myself vulnerable to all sorts of libel law suits against myself but this is my last blog for a while and I'll do what I want so get over it. Anyway, that's completely beside the point:
THREE FUCKING GUITARISTS!!!!!! And they rocked so good, so hard and so tightly that I wanted to scream. Actually I did.
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! More of that please.
And more of my Favourite Thing Today please: Corn thins with sweet chilli sauce, pickles and cheese gently melted under the grill. Yeah baby! Yes I am hung over. No I am not pregnant. They were made for me by a man and I'm pretty sure he's not preggas either.
Love you!
Take care out there in the big bad blog land.
XXXX
*there is only one local and that is Melbourne so get with the program if you haven't already.
**come on, you know it wasn't really him. At least I'm pretty sure...
posted by Darcy at 4:16 PM
11 Comments:
I apologise to my readers (both of you)
i sense someone needs some validation.
if you can't all 12 of my personalities, you have more readers than i do.
not sure if that'll help...
COUNT!!!
if you COUNT all 12 of my personalities.
that's the last time i let little suzy do the typing.
she's the manifestation of my inner child.
excellent. Thanks for being multi.
Where. Are. You?
Adelaide dude. Adelaide. Working my little heiny off.
Underwear and heels.
Fetish man. Fetish.
update!!!!
i miss you, miss darcy.
its cold in here without your warmth.
and you're not even gonna be at home when i visit.
Dearest Darcy,
You're a doll. And also, I replied to an email of yours but I think it bounced back with some sort of horrible technoworded error message. Did it die? Did you get it?
I would hate to think you think I am a rude individual who doesn't reply to things. In fact, I hate to think in general. Makes my brain hurt, it does.
Jess x
Fuck off spammer loser!!!!!
Get a life...like me.
*flicks hair around*
Would it be wrong and lazy to more or less rehash a recent email (which you may have received Nads) in order to update? Yes, I know it would.
I just haven't got any time!!!!
hmm...
Oh and Jess...sadly, no, I didn't receive your email.
Try again?
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