The Universe is a Saucy Bitch (feat. Sassy Moses)

First off, congrats to my Heavy Metal Vixen on completing her first med school quiz/exam thingy. I'm sure she rocked it. How could she not - her NAME is HMV!

~~~
So, I am not yet in the land of milk and honey. In fact, I am still in the desert.

The reason I am posting again so soon is because I have just had a truly profound experience that needs to be recorded right away. This is one of those truly strange experiences that one doesn't easily forget. It is one of those times when you feel the universe screaming out to you, trying to tell you something. And as a scientist, I don't normally think of the universe as an entity capable of screaming, but sometimes, coincidences occur that truly baffle the mind.

Today was my last day at my job in the hospital in the city in the desert that has been my home for the past year and the next 24 hours. I was, surprisingly, feeling a bit nostalgic - it is only a job, and it's only a city that I have lived in for a year. I left my job without fanfare, and without saying goodbye to some of the people that perhaps I should have. Some people, people from adjacent labs, from the cafeteria, etc, are bit players in the story of my life, mere walk-on parts. But I will never see them again, and somehow that endows them with...weight, with significance for me. Illogical, but human nuature is illogical.

Anyways, I went to the bus stop at the hospital where I work(ed), and as the bus approached, I noticed 2 people waiting at the bus stop with me. One was a woman close to my age (26-ish). She looked somewhat hispanic, somewhat white, somewhat black, like many people in this city. She was obese, but with good bone structure under there I would guess. The second person was her son. He looked to be about 10, small for his age, but with a very honest face. Now that I looked at them, I recalled crossing the street with them going towards the bus stop, and the mom saying to the son, "You'll have to stay home for 6 weeks, but it'll be great! We'll read books and play games, all the other children will be jealous of you!"

The boy seemed neither distraught nor elated - quite stoic. Putting the pieces together, I realized that this must be Tommy and his mother Delilah. HIPAA rules have discouraged me from bringing them up, but these are two people that I had learned of (but never met) earlier in my Desert year (their names here are pseudonyms). Without going in to too much detail, Tommy and Delilah are very poor. Completely poor. They live in squalor, and Tommy has been abused in the worst ways (not by Delilah), leaving him with severe psychological problems. Their story moved me deeply, but in the last 6 months, their path and mine parted ways, and I hadn't heard anything of them, or really thought of them since.

And all of a sudden, on my last day in this city, here they were on the bus with me. This strange coincidence put me into a state of heightened awareness and thought. I couldn't reach out to them due to HIPAA stuff, and even if I could, what would I do or say? I didn't have anything to offer them, although I wished more than anything at that moment that I was rich and I could just give them enough money to clamber out of poverty, or even to go get a nice lunch!

Anyways, there I was on the bus, thinking, looking, wondering how their life was going. Then all of a sudden, another character from my past gets on the bus. Now, by way of clarification of my last blog post, my "Downright Strange" list was going to start with a man whom I called Crazy Ziggy. Up until today, all I knew about him was that he was strange. He looked weird, spoke like the Rain Man, and rode the bus. I hadn't seen him in months, but he was the only strange thing I could think of as I wrote that post. I mentioned that he seemed like a very nice guy, then I put up a funny picture that reminded me of this strange guy, and called it a day.

Now, an hour after writing that post, here he was on the frikkin bus with me! Absolutely eerie coincidence. And this after the already remarkable coincidence of seeing Tommy and his mom on the bus. I literally laughed to myself as I saw him get on the bus, just because it was so surreal. As we trundled down the avenue, I heard this Rain Man recount to the other passengers how he had survived leukemia, "by the grace of god".

Like a broken record, he repeated this story 7, 8, 9 times. He must be autistic. Either way, I quickly felt guilty. I didn't say anything terrible about the guy, but I still felt a little guilty at reducing him to a bulletpoint in a snarky blog post. (Does this mean an end to snarky blog posts? Hell no! What would I do with all my free time?!)

THEN, I looked over to my right, and noticed yet another bus passenger that I had seen before - a young man covered in gang tattoos, supremacy tattoos, 2 tears tattooed on his face, and four aces on his neck. A few weeks back, I had seen him on the bus, and wondered what the tears signified. Had he killed 2 men? Lost 2 loved ones?

All in all, I got this feeling that my life, my story, was flashing before my eyes, except in the form of these real people on a bus. The Meek (Tommy and Delilah), the Weird (Crazy Ziggy), and Death (Aces). What was the universe trying to tell me?

Probably nothing. But maybe something. It's just too strange, so I feel I owe it to the universe to answer back, just incase it IS knocking on my wooden head, as it appears to be. Here is what I think the Universe is trying to tell me:

1) "Axl, don't forget about the people who need help. Even if you are a dirt poor Ramen-eater, there are people who are worse off than you. Do something once in a while. But overall, keep them in your mind."




2) "Axl, everybody has a story to tell. Take the time to know people rather than assume they are crazy old coots. Don't be a dick dude."

3) "Axl, the time you have is precious. Don't waste it."

So yeah. That's wassup. Mind: blown.

Au Revoir, Mon Ami

Yes, this is it. Parting is such sweet sorrow. The end of days in the Great American Southwest is upon us. The time has come to say auf wiederzein to all that I have known for the past year. Hasta la vista, bebe. And other cliches.

I am moving on to a new chapter in my life, hopefully full of good news on the med school front. And as we part, let's take a moment to remember the good, the bad, and the downright strange from my days in the desert:

The Good

- Saving Sir Bobbins Magellan Chookums Mouse-Destroyer 3000 from the clutches of defeat at the hands of the pound. He is going to be our little souvenir from the desert.

- Having a sweet-ass hot tub right at my apartment. I think I'm going to miss you most of all, hot tub.

- Sand people. Contrary to depictions in popular media, desert people are genuinely nice, more so here than average. New Englanders are...well, they're like fried ice cream (hot on the outside, cold on the inside...?). No wait, that's not right. They're like frozen... hot chocolate. A little cold on the outside, but warm and gooey on the inside. Desert people are just swell through and through.

- Spring in the desert. Spring here is awesome. My relatives back east were complaining about "mud season", which is spring in New England. Meanwhile, I was hiking in the mountains, enjoying perfect 70 degree weather. Nice.

- Eastern Blocker Soccer. Every saturday, I've been playing soccer with a bunch of Russians and Lithuanians that I met over here. It's been a blast. And let me tell you, you do not know the meaning of exhausted until you've played a game that ended at a score of 18-19, in 100 degree heat, without breaks, for 2 hours, at an altitude of 1 mile. I could probably run a marathon at sea level no problem now, even though I don't run marathons.

- Mexican food. Naturally, it's pretty awesome here.

The Bad

- Summer in the desert. Over 100 degrees all summer? No, but thanks.

- Being dirt broke 90% of the time. That may be more my fault than the desert's, but I'm going to go ahead and blame it on the desert anyway. Jobs are scarce out here, so if they say they are going to pay you $30 and a sandwich per week, you say Thank you sir, may I have another?

And then they say no.

- Crime. Desert people are poor for the most part. This means that there is a lot of petty theft and other crimes. Which sucks. Fortunately, I haven't been a victim of crime here, but I do mean fortunately. Had I stayed much longer, I fear I would be pushing my chances.

- Middle Eastern food. It's my fave. Along with Japanese. But there is not a lot of cultural diversity here, so there really isn't much in the way of good hummus. And I say boo to that.

The Downright Strange

- [content removed for a crazy reason, see next blog post]


And so, a farewell to arms! It's time to make like a shepherd and get the flock outta here! My next post will be from the land of milk and honey - New England!

Friday Night Insight - You're Welcome

I have decided that on Fridays, I shall impart some wisdom to my gentle readers via the Socratic Method. Thus:

Quiz time:

Japan is better than America because:

a) They have a mainstream metal band called Sex Machineguns

b) The Sex Machineguns music video has hot Ringu-zombie girls in it

c) The only white guy in Sex Machineguns (I think he's white) has corn rows... corn rows. While the rest of the band has baddddassss long hair

d) They have sushi

e) All of the above



If you answered e, congratulations, you have learned much from my Friday Night Insight.


EDIT: Upon closer viewing, it is probable that the guy with the cornrows is actually Japanese like the rest of them, thereby destroying my point c above. However, you KNOW that if there had been a white guy in the band, he'd probably have cornrows or a bald spot, or he would be massively fat, or he'd have a cameltoe or something. Not hatin' on America, just sayin...

A Love Letter

Baby, I miss you so much. Daddy's coming home soon. Don't let anyone else touch you till I get there. When I move to my new home in 6 days, I know you'll be there waiting for me, saving yourself for me. And when I get there, I promise to play with you so much. We'll have lot's of quality time together while Daddy looks for a job. I will caress your curves, stroke your neck, and send tingles down your back. We'll make sweet music together. I'll make you scream sweet ecstasy to the skies. Till then, just stay in your box.

Love - Axl



p.s. This the picture of you that I keep in my fat wallet:

So Many G's, So Many Ho's

As many of you may know, I am a talented musician. One of my many talents is songwriting - I can pop them out in like 2 seconds. In fact, here is one that I just wrote right this second:

Ohhhhhhhhh
I got so many Benjamins
And you aint got none!
I bought a coffee for myself
And you cain't have some!

Fo dinner I'ma reheat
Some Hobolognese
Fo brekfast I'ma eat
Cold pizza from yesterdayz!

Ohhhh Haters Gonna Hate
I got so many G's
Ohh Haters Gonna Hate
I got so much cheez!

Last night in the club
The ladies thought I was fine
I stepped on the dancefloor
And made it rain dimes!

So much money ho
You ain't neva seen
I show you so many Washingtons
You'll only see green

And I ain't talkin bout
No quarters, puh-laise!
I'm talkin bout them ones bitch
I'm rich like Hollandaise

So Haters Gonna Hate
I got so many G's
Oh Haters Gonna Hate
I got so much cheez!

Yesterday I went to Subway
And bought me a samwich
I got 40 cents change
And tossed in the can bitch!

When you got so much cash
It's weighing you down
Just grab a fistful of it,
And spend it on the town!

Like go to starbucks
get a grande not a tall!
Or go to the market
And buy 2-ply y'all!

Cause Haters Gonna Hate
I got so may G's
Yeah Haters Gonna Hate
I got so much cheez!



Gangsta yo! Tupac!

Women: You are all banned from Netflix for ever

Here's what a proper Netflix cue should look like, (i.e. when I'm in charge):

Terminator 4 - Arnold blowing shit up

Independence Day - Will Smith punching aliens on the nose

Star Trek - Captain Kirk blowing shit up + punching aliens

Mad Max - Postapocalyptic car world with Mad Max punching stuff

Ozzfest Live - Rockumentary of a metal festival; sex drugs and rock n roll

Tenacious D: Pick of Destiny - Jack Black on shrooms and rocking out.



Shawn of the Dead - Zombies getting sliced up

Resident Evil: Afterlife - Hot babe kills zombies



And here is what happens to an awesome netflix cue after a female gets a hold of it (yes, I'm talking about you HMV):

Temple Grandin - The story of an autistic lady who loves a horse or some shit

Black Beauty - The story of a horse and the girl who loved him

Babies - A movie about 4 babies who crawl around a lot and shit themselves

Teen Mom - A bunch of hoary girls hang out and complain about their lives

Princess Kaiulani - A hawaiian princess finds herself in England

Army Wives - A bunch of army wives betray eachother over and over again and then bitch about it

Letters to Juliet - Some chick writes a letter and becomes Juliet in Italy

Hotel Rwanda - A bunch of depressing shit

Magic Sexy Beauty Horse - The story of a retarded girl saved by a horse

Sacred Brown - The story of a little girl and the cow she loved to milk


Now honestly, I don't care who you are - which netflix queue do YOU go for? Right?

Waiting: like a chump or like a boss!

Waiting for secondaries or interview invites or interview days or final decisions is a marathon. A waiting marathon. It's basically the Olympics of waiting.

Sometimes, we forget that. Today is one of those days for me. Up until I got my first interview invite a few days ago, I was totally relaxed - I basically forgot that I was waiting for anything (which is the pro way to wait!). But then I got that invite, and then another one, and now, I'm jonesing for more! I was all up on SDN today just trying to figure out what schools were sending out invites, what schools weren't, what were the trends from last year etc. It's easy to lose your cool like that because there is so much riding on getting these interviews.

But then I was like, wait, I'm a pro waiter! I'm the Leonardo Davinci of waiting. Last time I applied to med schools, I waited 11 months just to find out that I didn't get in anywhere! This one time, I waited for like 12 years...for my 12th birthday to come, beotch! I aint no chump, I'm going to not even know that I'm waiting for anything! I'm gonna wait like a boss!

Spaghetti HoBolognese

There comes a time in a man's life when he just gets tired of eating shit - basically once you've tried every flavor of ramen and started combining them to make it interesting, you're there. That time came about 2 years ago for me, and I started to learn how to cook. I'm pretty bomb now, I can make loads of stuff.

However, as you may have gathered, I am now living in an apartment with basically nothing in it - I'm pretty much a squatter. But today I had enough, and decided that I was going to cook. And so, gentle reader, I present to you:




"Axl Roses No-bull All-beef Cow-meat Top-secret All-you-can-eat Photo-journalism Recipe for Spaghetti HoBolognese!"

Step 1: Walk a mile to the grocery store. You will probably get mugged. Perform sexual acts to get enough money for groceries. Get your groceries, and hightail it back to your squat.

Step 2: Find the least gross counter space.

Gross

Nope

Getting warmer...

Thar she blows! Now wipe that baby down with toilet paper, beacause you don't have any paper towels in the house.








Step 3: Lay out your ingredients. I recommend Newman's Marinara, and whatever ground beef is on manager's special - that way you know that that beef is good and aged. It can really soak up the flavor of the supermarket - it's had plenty of time to mature.

Hehe - just kidding. Oranges! For Pete's sake!

There!









Step 4: Use a dull butter knife to peel your carrot. Remember, always peel away from yourself - you wouldn't want to...well, you wouldn't want to bump yourself with the knife.

Then use excalibur there to chop that bitch up.










Step 5: You're going to want to start peeling and chopping your onion...

But don't! Instead, grab your meat...

(heh-heh...)

and throw it straight in your hobo pot. You'll want about a pound of beef (that's what she said), and just put it in with a little bit of olive oil on high heat to brown the meat. Should take about 3 mins.





Step...whatever: Use your lightsaber to chop up the onion.

One whole onion should do the trick.

and throw that shit right in the pot with the meat. Cook all that together for another 5 minutes till the onions are translucent or even a little brown.




Step Whatever +1: Chop up your celery, and toss in the carrots, celery, and a whole jar of tomato sauce right in to the pot. Reduce heat to medium or medium low, and let it sit for maybe 40 minutes, turning it over periodically.

Aaaaaaawwwwwww yeah grrl! Give it up! At this point, your hobolognese is starting to approach its panty-dropping perfection. Half-way thru, chop up a bunch of fresh basil and toss that in.

40 minutes later, take it out of the pot and put it in to whatever containers you have. I have a bowl! And a plate!







Step Alpha: Clean your pot out and cook your pasta.

Why are we using the same pot? To get that hobolognese flavour in to our pasta? To keep the pot hot and boil the water faster? No- we reuse the pot because we are a hobo, and have only one pot. Idiot.




While your pasta is cooking, let your hobolognese sauce cool off a little. It actually tastes better after it's had some time to sit. That chill time allows it to get juicy.

Step Omega: Strain your pasta... oh wait. We are a hobo and don't have a strainer. Well, just put the lid on the pot and tip it upside-down in the sink and hope that the scalding water and steam doesn't cause you to drop the pasta in to the disposal thingy, and then you put your hand down there to fish out the pasta and then a power surge turns the disposal on and... well then you got your bolognese the fast way.

Et voila!









Bueno Appetito!

The Dog Days of Purgatory (feat. Sassy Moses)

People sometimes ask me how I know that I will like being a doctor. Let's play a little quiz game:


Q: Wanna know how I know that I'm going to like med school and being a doctor?

A: Because I'm going through hell to get there. And after hell, well shit, even purgatory looks like the tits.


OK, maybe I'm not going through hell, but this period of my life will forever be known as... the Bummer Summer. No, the Acrimonious August. The Time Not So Sublime? The Dog Days of Dog Turds? The Before-Fall's Walls-to-walls Punch in the Balls? The Pre-Autumn Smacked-Bottom?

I don't want to turn this totally awesome and metal blog in to a sissy little bitchy diary, but August has been really tough. HMV and Bobbins Magellan Mouse-Destoryer 3000 have moved to New England ahead of me and started med school (the HMV has, not Bobbins. He's deferring a year). That has left me alone in the great American Southwest, with no car, no cat, no girlfriend, no stuff in my apartment, and no money (moving expenses I guess). So I've basically been subsisting off ramen, pasta, rice, eggs, frozen pizzas, and whatever else I can dig up. I'm working two jobs, and trying to sell the last of my shit in my free time. If I want to go anywhere I have to take the shitty bus system or walk. I've walked more this month than fucking Moses did in his whole life.

However, there's a purpose to all this. Literally everything I've done in the last 3 years has all been towards one goal: getting in to med school. And now I am nearing the finish line (again), and honestly, the day I get the call that I'm in... I don't even know... that will be a good day. And if I don't get in anywhere, it will be a kick in the nuts, and I'm not sure where I'll go from there. Hopefully, we won't have to find out.

Anyways, I scheduled my two interview invites for mid-September and early October. Let the games begin.

Invasion of the killer interviews from another dimension!

Score! Second interview invite, this time closer to home, in my old stomping grounds - Philly!

Karma, thou art a saucy bitch

Karma is a bitch, Newton's third law reigns supreme, and the Ying-yang twins creep me out a little bit.

This morning, I got an email telling me that my bank account got overdrafted. This happened because the geniuses at Comcast told me they were going to do one thing and then did another. Comcast is officially a choad. Is that libelous? I hope so. Come get some Comcast.

Anyways, literally two minutes after I received that gem of an email, I got another email from a medical school in the midwest inviting me to interview. SUCK THAT COMCAST! The hypocratic oath be damned - when the CEO of Comcast comes in to my OR, there might be a little accident. "Oh you wanted your appendix removed? So sorry, what a mix up! That word, "appendix", it does sound so much like the word "hand" doesn't it? It's funny how sometimes people tell you they will do one thing and then end up doing an entirely different thing..."

Anyways, no, I will not hurt people when I am a doctor. Today is a good day, overall! Onwards and upwards. My interview will be in September, and I shall duly report the experience.

An Education in What Music is Really About

As I have mentioned previously, I rarely proscribe non-metal music to my dear readers. However, here comes one more notable exception to my rule:

Gogol Bordello! It's Gypsy Punk!

Have you ever experienced something so perfectly executed that it makes you feel kind of bad that you are not as awesome? Especially if it's something that you have some expertise in? Like if you are a pretty good soccer player, and then you go to a pro game and see how infinitely better those players are than you, and you think, Damn, I could have been that guy if I had just put in a little more effort 10 years ago? Or like if you were a pretty good stripper, and then you saw me on a pole, and you were like, Man, I have so much to learn!

That's how Gogol makes me feel. They are literally such a good band, that it makes me feel inadequate, as a musician, and as a man. But all you can do is thank the stars that such a work of genius exists. It's like that guy in Amadeus who both hated and worshipped Motzart. No kidding, that's how I feel about Gogol Bordello. It's more than just a man-crush. Its the real thing.

So here's what it is - the secret to their genius. The musicianship itself is good, but it wont blow you away. The songwriting is very good, but it wont blow you away. What really blows you away is their live show (which, of course, doesnt come through as well on studio recordings). The main guy is Eugene Hutz, and he is just... I don't even know...he is the essence of a showman. The personification of the rock and roll attitude. You want to be his friend, because of his earnest love of and huge talent for performance. Plus he surrounds himself with the right people. The essence of performance is a gang - a gang that gets eachother, and that makes you want to be a part of it.

I suppose I can't adequately explain it. To understand what I am talking about, you should:

1) go see a live show. It might change your life.

2) watch Gogol Bordello: Non-Stop. It's on netflix streaming.

3) watch The Pied Piper of Hutzovina - its on netflix non-streaming.

4) listen to any of their albums on Spotify - the music itself is very good even if you don't get the thrill of the live performance in this medium.

Anyways, that is all. Go, be enlightened my little demonlings.

Here's the thing secondaries. It's not you, it's me.

So, for those of you who might not know, when you are applying to medical school, you fill out a primary application for all the schools you want to apply to, and then a secondary application for each school on your list. Each one is totally different; this can get real old real quick. Right around the 21st application, well, you are hoping to get a certain kind of application.

Here is my favorite kind of secondary application:

"We have received your primary application. Please fill out this secondary application:
Name:
Date of Birth:
Give us $100 dollars

Thank you - we will let you know in... well, however the hell long we want."

Yeah, that's the best case scenario. Here is the kind of secondary app that I hate, and have been working on for last 3 days:

"We have received your primary application. Please fill out this secondary application:
Name:
Date of Birth:
Social Security Number:
Mother's Maiden Name:
Astrological sign:
No not yours, hers:
Last time you had a haircut:
Pizza topping preference:
Penis radius of curvature:
Do you think that medicine is a good thing? Explain:
Is teamwork nice?:
How many African babies have you delivered? If less than 10, explain:

Your application is nearly complete. Pay us $105. Thank you. We'll get back to you when the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse ride in to our office and put guns to our heads and force us to get back to you."

Busses: Public Menace or Necessary Evil?

This is how you learn a lesson.

This morning, I woke up at 7:40am, the usual time for work, and just couldn't force myself out of bed. I normally take the 8:15 bus that stops right outside my house, but after a long night of filling out secondary apps (only 3 left!), I thought, What the heck, I'll sleep another half hour and catch the next bus. So I slept.

I stepped out of my house at 8:27am this morning, and arrived at work at 10:44am. Yes. It took me more than 2 hours to get here. It's about 5 miles away. I could have literally crawled to work faster. Thank you bus system. Go **** yourself.

On a happier note, I only have 3 weeks left till I get to move to New England! So excited. The southwest has been good to me, but I am so ready to leave - it's just too goddamn hot all the time. Also, did I mention that In Waves by Trivium just came out? It deflowered my ear-holes.

Will Shred for Cash

I have decided that this might be a good time in my life to go busking (apparently not everyone knows what busking is (het-hem HMV) - its when you play music on the streets for change). But I feel that busking has been done seven ways to Sunday. Every Dick Joe and Harry and his uncle has set the guitar case open and played some lame song after lame song. Not me - I'm going to make busking sexy.

1) Albums. The HMV has this terrible, terrible habit of never listening to a whole song all the way through, let alone a whole album. I on the other hand like to sit down and listen to a whole album. So I thought, how awesome would it be if a busker just played a whole album all the way through?! So that's what Ima do. I'm thinking I'll start with Appetite for Destruction by GnR, Skid Row by Skid Row, and maybe Master of Puppets by Metallica. Sweet.

2) Signs. "Donations Accepted", "Need Cash", "Thanks for you help". Know what I say to those signs? Yaaaaaaaawwnn zzzzzzz. I will have signs that change every day. And they will be sick. "Donations Accepted for legal defense fund", "Need cash for Lobster Dinner", "Thanks for supporting alcoholic musician bums". Boo yah bee-otch.

3) Parties. Where Axl busks, the party follows. I will recruit local musicians to come play with me, and I'll get my band to come out and play acoustic sets that are still totally metal.

Plan complete.

A Sincere Prayer

Lord Bhal, what dwelleth beneath
Metal be thy game
Thy bills have come
I will be done
Unless I can get some cash up in here.

Give me this day a couple bucks
And forgive me my credit card debts
As I forgave that guy in college who still owes me a beer.
And lead me not in to further poverty,
But deliver me from Ramen.

For mine is the bank account
With sixty-three fifty in it
For ever and ever.

Word up.

Mega Ultra-Metal Super-Medical Somewhat Relevant Update: Roadtrip and Cetera

Oh my - long time no update...

[deep, deep inhale]


Days 2-5 of roadtrip were sweet, stopped in Kansas City, Chicago, Eerie(ish), Niagara Falls (Holy Strip-mall Trash-heap Tourist-trap Batman!), and then arrived at our new home in [super-secret New Englad college town] where we got our new home set up and Heavy Metal Vixen got situated with her med school stuff at [ultra-anonymous med school in said super-secret college town] and then we drove north to see my fam which was awesome and then we drove back and now I am flying back to the Southwest to finish up my job and our lease and now I am sitting around like a chode in the wind waiting for my 3 hour layover to be done, full stop.

[deeeep inhale]

Yes. I have been writing many many secondary essays for the application process, which sucks. I have a tendency towards run-on sentences; the above paragraph-sentence should have gotten most of that out my system. I've been editing those out of my secondaries all day. And now. My sentences. Are. Much. Shorter.

Leeet's see what else is huge going on...

Well, in the world of metal, Trivium's ridiculous new album In Waves is about to drop, so I'm saving up all my tooth fairy money for that. If you have any love at all for metal (and why wouldn't you?), watch this music video, it's super cool.


Also, in case it wasn't clear, I am moving back to [anonymous New England college town in New England] at the end of August. I will live with the HMV, apply to schools, and work. It will be sweet. But also [dum da-da daaaahhh] I will be starting a new metal band! Who wants to play with me? If you do and you live in...the...Boston environs...or anywher kind of near there...hit me up. :) Sweet anonymity-save Axl!

As of this 5th day of this month August, I am announcing the start of a fabulous new sweepstakes super-competition! If you don't win this competition, your head will almost certainly explode due to the crushing pressure of defeat at having NOT won the incredible prize on offer. Here's the skinny:

Axl Rose's Mega-Metal Ultra-Music-Like Somewhat-Medical Bingo Sweepstakes Competition!

I challenge you, yes YOU, gentle reader, to come up with a sweet name for my new band that will form shortly. All lame entries will be labelled "Lame" and posted on this blog. Then I will probably send you a bag of Bobbins's poop in the mail. But oh! if you send me an awesome band name, it shall be labeled "Metal" and posted on this blog. And at the end of August, the most metal, most clever, most sexy, most head-swellingly awesome band name shall be picked (either by me or by popular vote), and it shall become the actual In Real Life band name of my band. And maybe I will send you a fabulous prize (or potentially a bag of Bobbins's poop)! Void where prohibited. Yeah, I'm talking to you South Dakota. Don't even try it.

That is all for now gentle reader. Excuse the long silence - secondaries have genuinely ruined all aspects of my life: my TV watching is non-existent, my drinking is severely sub-alcoholic, and my free time index is in the toilet. But I am aaaalmost done with secondaries, at which point you can expect a deluge of tasty tasty treats.



[Cretit to nananishigaki.com for cat poop pic, hehe]



P.S. I totally forgot - I became obsessed with this vid over the past week. I normally do not proscribe non-metal videos and/or music, but this is the most metal non-metal video I have ever seen! Enjoyez-vous: