This entry was posted on Sunday, December 13th, 2009 at 6:36 pm and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
December 13th, 2009
We got this from our very special friend Matt Griffin yesterday. Turns out he’s got some ideas for dust jackets too.
For the record, we don’t think Moby is a dick. In fact, we like him. He says hi to us on the street, even though we once asked him if he’d been with a lady who’s vagina was so big he could stuff his balls in as well (Wooooo#2. On sale now! At the buy stuff page!)
Incidentally, Moby’s real name is Gavin. Gavin Giles. Did you know that? Well, now you do.
It’s that time again where we apologize for not posting every single day… Sorry.
It’s been really hectic over here in the old country! Drinking beer, sunning, eating, drinking beer, occasionally masturbating…
One’s been run off of one’s feet! One’s also been reading too much D.H. Lawrence, by the by.
Well, not that much. I’m halfway through Lady Chatterly’s Lover. I don’t know what all the fuss was about. It’s just not that bawdry. So far there have been a series of “connexions”, but nothing remotely obscene has happened at all. I assumed it would be jam-packed with pearl-necklaces and the like, but no one has so much as put a finger in anyone else’s bum! Ridiculous. And to think it was banned, in it’s original form, for thirty years in both the US and the UK. How absurd. Imagine what would happen if you travelled back in time with a copy of Jackie Collins’ Hollywood Wives! You’d be summarily burnt at the stake. At the tender age of 12 I found and read Jackie’s novel The Stud. Imagine my prepubescent surprise when the protagonist smoked a joint with his Mexican maid, and then did her in the bum. The world fell apart for me then. Nothing was as it seemed. Innocence lost. You can never go home again, etc…
Here’s a picture of Jackie (left), and her better-known sister Joan, being all leathery-yet-alluring in the back of a limo. Imagine yourself crammed between those two saber-tooths. They’d eat you alive.
Jeez, “Imagine this- Imagine that” Shut up, me.
Well, that’s about it really. We’re on vacation, so unless you want to hear about how I spilled coconut oil on the “good” rug, there’s little for me to report. Here’s Iggy singing the soundtrack to my last few days here at mum’s house.