Ever tried writing with one hand while the other one tries to calm a screaming child and nurse a glass of Tescos own label single malt? It’s not pretty. Neither of them. Two birds with one stone perhaps ? A drop of the Glen Edwards into wee Joe’s bottle and Daddy can happily blog away.
OK, I’m new to this, but my reading of this gig so far is as follows. After years of largely one way email traffic from our man Kivak, he’s come up with a way to guilt trip us all into writing to him. It’s a sophisticated strategy, but successful in primary school playgrounds the world over. I’ll call you a fanny until you do what I want you to do. It is amusing and it seems to be working.
Particularly nice to have BA join in - my only real contender for hopeless fuck of the year when it comes to staying in touch. Who’ll blink first ;-) I do have photoshop technology and I’m not afraid to use it – so here’s a pic of the biggest blackest skinny white guy I’ve ever known (and I know a few).
Anyway, I wish I could reminisce more about Harcov in the mid – late nineties. It was one of the greatest chapters so far. The trouble is remembering it. It’s all rolled into one humungous session which is not all that far from the truth. The best evenings I can remember were those when, knackered after a full 90 minutes at the coal face, we’d stop off in Balcaru for one on the way home. Eight pints later it would be home for a quick packet of greasy noodle and a jug of Regent from the pool hall, before hitting Vacha / Zanzi / S club / Had. Aah, wasn’t life simple.
Time for a refill.....
Particularly nice to have BA join in - my only real contender for hopeless fuck of the year when it comes to staying in touch. Who’ll blink first ;-) I do have photoshop technology and I’m not afraid to use it – so here’s a pic of the biggest blackest skinny white guy I’ve ever known (and I know a few).
Anyway, I wish I could reminisce more about Harcov in the mid – late nineties. It was one of the greatest chapters so far. The trouble is remembering it. It’s all rolled into one humungous session which is not all that far from the truth. The best evenings I can remember were those when, knackered after a full 90 minutes at the coal face, we’d stop off in Balcaru for one on the way home. Eight pints later it would be home for a quick packet of greasy noodle and a jug of Regent from the pool hall, before hitting Vacha / Zanzi / S club / Had. Aah, wasn’t life simple.
Time for a refill.....
6 comments:
There are other contenders for that title with better credentials that you, Bedrich. The amount of outbound postal traffic, electronic or otherwise, from certain parts of the country where you're presently domiciled makes you look like an incurable case of pathological logorrhoea in written form.
Can't say I've tried the above mentioned contortions while banging out these missives on my keyboard, but then I'd have to steal somebody's baby first. On the other hand, I can imagine what some people are doing with their other hand while purusing the Internet after reading this story from the Groaner about 'Britain's Kinsey': http://observer.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,,2010221,00.html
...oh god, can't stop laughing at that picture...can't hardly type through the tears...
Bedrich,
You made my month, dude. That's the most awesome thing I have ever seen. Your timing is perfect too, as I had just finished burning my latest funk mix CD and was in need of a fitting cover. Not to mention that its my new wallpaper on my desktop. I think I should have it on my new business cards as well-- "which card's yours?" -- 'It's the one that says Bad Motherfucker on it..'
Good to hear your "voice" again as well. Been a long time since we rock and rolled... Way to get Kivak fired up.. not that it takes much.
Sadly, middle of the workday, need to get back. Will post at greater length soon.
Hey Rotten, why so quiet? Knee-deep in prose, whiskey, and wiener dogs? Also, do you have a good email for The Dirty One?
BA,
I'll get you Dirty's e-mail faster than you can quote a verse of scripture and empty your smokewagon into a skinny white boy...
I will post some stuff at some point. Just waiting for the urge to move me, I guess.
Prose, whiskey, and wiener dogs: I fell off the self-imposed "no hard liquor" wagon on Saturday night while watching an all-chick group called the Apples play sixties cover tunes while dressed up in go-go skirts and hip boots (the all-chick band, not me)...All U Can Drink Free Whiskey+Rotten=Not Good...
I never used to need a calendar to measure the duration of a hangover.
And please, don't feel obligated to wait for me to get off my ass before you fill us in on all your latest...
ROTTEN OUT.
Yep, great picture. Sorry, should have stated the obvious yesterday. I'll second that suggestion from Rotten that B.A. gets some copy going on what he's been up to over the last half-dozen years. I'm sorely out of touch on that score. Post away, Bad Motherfucker. May have to refrain from further blogging today after spending the entire morning at a job interview. Will have to put in some work this avo to make up.
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