Monday, September 13, 2004

Bits and pieces

Exactly as predicted there's three comments/votes. Looks like we're "going private" tomorrow. There was one vote for the pervert in a toilet at Belgrade station. So guess what? I might write that one up and put it in for next weeks vote.
I've just been speaking to my friend Danny with the lethal weapon. That is his in car stereo that kills at five paces. Well if you recall he was going in for a competition at Donnington for the loudest sound system. He won. He managed 147.2 decibels from his rig. His prize........ tickets to some car racing finals at Silverstone. Also he qualifies for the finals of the in car stereo competition. There's some minor competitions in between that he "knows" he's going to win. Jeez he's so laid back and confident. I tried to get him to be enthusiastic about winning, but you know he was, so matter of fact about it. As if he didn't even have to try. It was a foregone conclusion. All he had to do was turn up to get first prize. He sounded bored as he told me. Yes I've got the most fuck off sound system in my class. I can't loose. What more do you want?
Although he did have a few accidents on the way to the top. He showed me a few months ago what was left of his old speaker. He put so much power through it that it ripped itself apart. I still can't get over the fact that his in car stereo is louder than our whole bands PA system.
At the moment he's looking for a lap top computer for Gemmalah my daughter, they call them note pads now, I think. Come on I'm a musician, if I'm wrong kill me. Gemmalah is starting university on Sunday. So we've got less than a week to find her the best laptop money can't buy.

If you're in the area on Thursday 30th September, the band and I are recording our new live CD. We're playing Geneva's bar. The last CD that was made was at O'niells bar. I wasn't on it because I joined a month after it was recorded. The man who can not be named (love the horse) is bringing his skill and expertise to do the recording for us and the post production editing. This time we'll have an audience microphone. So if you want to be there to scream and shout on our CD you've had ample warning.

I've had a few Emails about this "love the horse" business. No comments of course. My readers apart from the three, don't usually comment. Well the man who should not be named is a staunch Ipswich supporter. Their emblem is a horse. He often wears a football shirt with the emblem on it. We all have to stroke the horse for good luck. Except I'm a bit worried about that because "the horse" is inevitably right on top of his nipple. So I think am I stroking the horse or indulging is it some homoerotic thing. But that's my problem not yours. I must point out for fear of broken fingers that the man who should not be named, is in no way that way inclined. I have to say that because I value my fingers, I need them to play guitar. Jools if you are going to break my fingers can you at least wait until after the 30th. Shit! I've mentioned his name again. That's me dead.

My roadie came back from her holiday in Rome. She was sitting on my bed as I came out the shower. She said "Put on those pink frilly knickers."
"Oh go on." she pleaded. "Please......pretty please.......sugar on top."
"I don't want to. I'm already traumatised."
"Go on just for me. I want to see what you look like wearing them."
So naked and dripping from the shower, and against my gut instinct, I put them on for her.
She pissed herself laughing. Tears rolling down her cheeks. She was still laughing as we walked to the pub.
"I'm sorry." she said, "it's just so funny."
"I'm glad you think so. You made me do it. How can I hold my head up in society again?"
"I wont say a word." she promised. Except at the pub she was still laughing and had to tell everyone who asked why. Oh the shame! I should be a respected musician. Now I am known as the guy who wears pink frilly knickers. My children who read this will not want to talk to me again and my ex-wife will say she knew all along I was a wrong un. What happened to my macho image? I just want to be dangerous and mysterious but when you're known as the guy who wears pink frilly knickers that goes out the door. So I guess I've got to tough it out. Live it down. Pretend I did it for a bet. It doesn't seem to matter that I was under threats to do this. The fact remains I was the guy who wore pink frilly knickers. So did Del Tony and the man who should not be named. No one comments on them wearing the pink frilly knickers. No one thinks twice. So why do I have to suffer? Why do people take the piss out of me and not them? Maybe because I am traumatised and they don't give a shit. What's the point of taking the piss out of someone who doesn't give a damn? There's some issues here. I think I'm going into therapy very soon. Or not. Del said it would be liberating. Well maybe he was right. Because now I don't give shit what you think. What's done is done I am still Mike Da hat. Musician, lover and bad dancer.

Rock on Dudes


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