Tha Stick

Continuing to roll with this thick, sticky and none-too-nuanced heat, well... the beerz don't sit so well. Never made it to a/c last night, only to S&M's mudpit of a front yard for a massive beercan chicken and some crazy fixins. While 'twas roasting it's thang we roasted ourselves in the afternoon with cans of Bud and whathaveyou. Started disassembling with a copy of Gore Vidal's Messiah I'd seen kicking about his house for a couple weeks.

After we were too drunk to eat any more or too full to stop drinking we posse'd on over to the High Noon just in time to catch Omega Weapon. Only 'FUCK' will rightly explain the pummel. Madison supergroup or something. Except actually really awesome, which is not a supergroup kinda klaim.

Stuck it out for the Vanishing Kids set, whom I think I've seen once or twice and I kinda dig. They seemed to somehow heat 'n chill the room at the same time with their synthtastic snarl. Then we had to stumble, menthol in my mouth (thanx Kevs!) and, yes, a pizza in our future.

Saved from certain decimation by some Glass Nickel pineapple/Can bacon action, the hott-as-fark hangovermorning is only slightly dragged-thru-the-desert a la Good, Bad, 'n Ugly. Only one thing could sooth: There's a Riot Goin' On. Oh the strung out glory is setting my vessels at ease. Fear not.