This cannot possibly end well.

Hey,

Okay so, we've been dormant for a while, and it's time to shake things the fuck up.

We have a podcast in the works, so you can look forward to relishing not only every dumb thing we write, but every stupid thing we say, too.

Look forward to useful and informative segments like 'Liquid Geoff's Solid Advice' and 'Sweeping the Leg'.

Phil out.

Its what the Fans wanted...

Wake up.
Its time to go to work.
Oh fuck where am I, did I bring the car back.
Oh my fucking head.
Amstel,Patron,cake,tequilla(with bubbles),new people,people I been told about,talk to them talk to them,talking to them,wine?,kitchen coversations,99 red baloons,tequila sunrises, sorry kai OJ was good,taste this, its strong, oh bugger maybe I'm racing to fast, blur, blur, blur, vodka soda, martini glass, balcony, watch fairy (i only seem to see him when I'm FUCKED!), blur, what you do?, TV repair man, plumber, gin from somewre, lectured in kitchen about not mixing, throwing out wine, mixing, blur, gin present, talking with them, jet plane in the sky...so high, blur, oh goodbye, blur, oops?, blur, blur, its ok, they think you're cool, blur, blur, walk in the dark,kai=dance commander, fiction, dancing, closed eyes, fantastic music, dance,blur, blur,BLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUR
Wake up.
Its time to go to work.
Oh fuck where am I, did I bring the car back.
Oh my fucking head.

And so, to recap:

"I would love to know how your mind works"
"Do you really want to know how Geoff's mind works?"
To which my reply could've been, "Can you actually fathom how my mind works?"

I buy motorcycle magazines to look at the bikes, the babes on the cover are just a bonus.


I buy car magazines to look at the engines.


I bought an Alfa Romeo because I like how you change from first gear into second. (among other things)

I would probably read the articles in a playboy magazine too.



I keep saying how when I move out, my room and house will be neat and with everything in its place; while my room is a mess.
However when at work, any work. Everything is in its place and neat.

Normal walls cannot contain me.
Conventional Weapons cannot kill me.

I am the big bad wolf, (but the cartoon version)

I can think of a million different angles, ways of doing things and ideas, but follow thorough none.

I am a show off.
I am not one to boast.



You really want to know how my mind works?
I've been telling you all along. But not with words.
Its in my choice of watch, in my choice of car, in my choice of movie, in my choice of music, and whatver you may think. Its in the choice of my friends.


Maybe I'm complicated because of my multiple simplicity?





































...maybe this was just a taste?

Two wheeled madness

Ok folks, I'm going to be pretty bland and do one of my hyperthetical what-should-I-get posts. Now before you shitheads make any snide comments about what I should get, I'm going to (what we in telecoms refer to as) "close" the question, and only give out a limited number of choices.
This week its bikes.
Personally I want them all, and one of every type...but I've got to start someware.
So where do I start.
Should I get a classic vespa to buzz around town on?
One perhaps like this?
Or should I go for a Cafe Racer look and buy a cheapish but old school 80s muscle bike. And do this to it.

Or lastly should I go for a modern Super Bike.





Pick A for the Vespa Sprint 150
Pick B for the Honda CB750 custom Cafe Racer
or
Pick C for the Suzuki GSXR400R

Also I found this cool website thanks to one of my favorite blogs.

http://www.bigdaddyroth.com/

ZANGZADANGZIDANGZABANG!

They say a rolling stone gathers no moss. But what happens when you get to a point in your life where you are forced? I wouldn't say forced but morally and psycologically prevented from proceeding. You are wise enough to know that no moment lasts forever, that no ruts eternal, but you are frustrated with the waiting. The waiting for fate to take it's course. Sure i'm a fatalist. No one has proven me wrong so far. don't kill, or steal, or plunder, or rape. be nice to people and have a couple of friends and a couple of opinions and work hard and thank who ever the hell it is you wanna thank that you have parents that made it enough in the world to keep a roof over you somewhat pointless head. You do that and I assure you life will take care of you. It will give you drama, it will give you opportunities, it will give you excitement, it will give you girlfriends and boyfriends and best friends and movies and....

Holy crap i just wrote another slumdog millionaire.

WOOOOOOOOOOP WWOOOOOOOOOOOP EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWE WAAAAAAHAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAH

heres another gouche tightener that is always a hot topic for discussion: the crap gender and the terrible things they make us do.
Chapter EIN! Haarschnitt

I was nearly blinded but the incredible reflection of light that bounced off the shiny blond surface of the razor sharp emo style side parting. My stomach churned as I gazed at the surgical precision. the perfect forty-five degree fringe, flattened against the forehead with the longest follicles gradually covering the proprietors left eye.
"How could it have come to this" I thought as I stared longingly at every movement made by the cranium before me. the cranium i thought i once knew well. But thats all changed hasn't it? The man staring back at me, mimicking my movements, my faked gestures of happiness. It was all gone. the once happy, hearty, carefree, magnificent, strong, masculine, soft, warm welcoming lockes. GONE!
"EH VOILA SE FINI! se bon no?"
"BABY YOU LOOK GREAT! Merci buku Jean-Francois! you did an aHsuum job! his hair looks fantastic! everyone is gonna love it!"
"Baby?"
"Baby stop staring into the mirror like that. it looks great, super sexy, better than that raggamuffin look, real.... mature, and deep. You like it right..............?"
I wanted to die.
"Yeah my jewel, It looks great. I mean its hair. I mean its awesome."
I took off the towel that had been choking me for the last thirty seven minutes, brushed the dead remnants of my former glorious quaffuer off my now exposed neck. Brock the death gaze, and stood up off the black pleather chair.

"I love you baby."
"I love you too."

I wanted to die.

I really do wish I was joking...

It's ridiculous just how many times I've hit myself in the face with my headphones.

It fucking hurts.