Eff Bomb Fridays: Florence and The Fu*king Machine

Florence and The Machine, The Dog Days Are Over



Hell yes they are, Flo.
Happy Fucking Friday, Boovers!!!

Ear Candy: Keane

Keane, Hamburg Song

The Dead Weather

Check out my Dead Weather review on TMITM. Tuesday, 9am.

Short. To the point.

Ear Candy (?): Europe

This is for you, Jules!

Ear Candy: I'm Afraid of Americans

David Bowie, I'm Afraid of Americans (featuring Trent Reznor)

Ear Candy: Say My Name, Say My Name, Say My Stupid Name

Ah, The Bird & The Bee.

Enjoy Again and Again.

Ear Candy: ONCE: In full addiction mode

If you don't have this soundtrack, get it immediately! (If anything, so you can relate to my level of heroin-like addiction. Thank you.)

What's Going On???

Just to give you a taste of my life in the past few days....



The Good:
My brother's band, Waiting to Bleed (heavy, heavy metal stuff) got signed to their first label. They are producing two albums and a DVD, so I'll keep you 'heads posted.

The Meh:
We fired the contractor that is building our house. More to follow on that later....(after I finish ripping out the remaining hair on my head). AND, I locked myself (accidentally) in our laundry room yesterday morning for, oh, about TWO Hours.

The Bad:
Our local recycling truck crashed into our truck (my baby!!!!), and now the engine resembles nothing more than a Geiger-esque accordian. Wahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!

And tonight is a full moon/lunar eclipse, so I'm crazy as it is. I'm hoping I'll get through the rest of the week with minimal scarring.

How are y'all???

Tonight Only!

In the Asheville area? Enjoy local live music? Have a hankering for whiskey, tits, and beer? Is your name Buck?

Come see the country-heavy honky tonk stylings of the Two Dollar Pistols. Knowingly cared-for and loved in my drunken wandering days (i.e. "college").

I Married a Saint.

So yesterday I hosted a little girly get-together, the Ladies Listening Lounge, basically because I want to hear some new music, but I'm too lazy to actually, you know, go seek it out, so I disguised my laziness under the guise of a girl's night with wine and cheese and little sweet potato pies and invited over the hottest girls I know and told them to bring some music. And it was great, but that has little to do with my saintly husband, since, you know, he's a he, and this was a ladies thing, but I will get to that.

Ladies Listening Lounge (maybe I should change it to Lazy Ladies Lounge; I really like the "L" thing—it makes me feel like a hip lesbian or something) was a smashing success, mainly because I heard some great new music and we managed to kill 4.5 bottles of wine in about 2.5 hours. And, as I mentioned earlier, I invited the hottest women I know, so that was good.

But the reason that my husband (I've been calling him my boyfriend lately because we have so much fun together that saying husband just sounds too stuffy; we need a new word) is a saint is because when I RUSHED through the door at 5:10, he was there, cleaning the house. AND he helped me make dinner and delicious sweet potato pie thingies, and he MOPPED THE KITCHEN FLOOR, and that my friends, is why he will now be known as The Saint.



HE MOPPED THE KITCHEN FLOOR. Willingly! And I didn't even mention it to him. AND I was going to do it before the hot ladies came over! AND DID I MENTION HE MOPPED THE KITCHEN FLOOR?! Obviously, you can sense how vile and repulsive I find this particular chore.

Then, after he helped me cook and clean, he left. The Saint is a saint. Maybe that's my new word for him, instead of husband/boyfriend. If I hadn't been exhausted and ddddrunk last night when he came home, I would have given him a "home" to "come" to, if you get my quotes.

Ear Candy: Deadboy and the Elephantmen

For your listening pleasure, Dax Riggs, formerly of Acid Bath.



Happy Thursday, betches.

Boo