The Adelaide scene: to many of you it may be little more than a touring speed bump between Melbourne and Perth but to us it's a way of life. Feast within, on all its dysfunctional splendour, as we bring you the highly satirical, laughingly fictional and intellectually imbecile tales from our rock & roll wasteland...
THE SHINY BRIGHTS + HEY FEVER + STEERING BY STARS "PLUS ONE" @ THE ED CASTLE / Saturday September 26th 2009
There's this wonderfully naff turn of phrase that I've been hearing a lot of late: "here for a good time, not for a long time" and as much as I appreciate the sentiment (and its ever so subtle kamikaze undercurrent) I've always struggled with the specifics. Just how long IS a "long time"? How do we define its measure? Is it merely a Warholian microburst: a fifteen second brainfart encapsulated in a facebook status and then it's lights out forever? Or is it a minute? an hour? a week? a month? a year? a whole lifetime explored to the fullest yet imploded in an instant? And what does this make of me then: the proverbial "fungus in the refrigerator" who's been here forever, who just won't quit short of a silver bullet, a wooden stake, decapitation or fire? Who the fuck knows, because I sure as hell don't!? I mean how long IS "long" when my concept of time is so hilariously warped in this demon dimension of mine: where weeks become months and sunlight is all but a faded memory? Perhaps it's relative, elastic and spastic, a circadian cuckoo clock as rendered by Salvador Dali. Maybe my pupils dilate to all the ebb and flows like a morse code and "someone" out there is simply translating this signal: a stream of consciousness stretching right back to the big bang (or even before that) that somehow makes sense of it all? WHOAAA blackhole singularity! And then just before I can finally reach an epiphany on all this, I reboot once more to "reality" with a dull aching thud. Damnit! Here outside of The Ed Castle all octogenarian, oxygen deprived and covered in coarse fur. Or perhaps I simply respawned? Didn't I already beat this stage? Friday night!? FUCK!! Either way clearly it's been beating me black and blue with it. Footpath hurts my face. Teeth all knocked loose, rattling about in my bird cage like a ball bearing maze as I find my spirit level again. I'm a wireframe animatic with a busted up collision detector. My thoughts are all scattering about non sequitur and erratic. I swear I'm way too old for this shit! And yet just like Groundhog Day I'll still happily take on this mission like a moth to its flame!
Still as utterly decrepit as I feel tonight, I'm not the only one this prematurely pickled, seasoned, and rife with dementia. It's Saturday night, it's fucking everywhere! We form a line, single file: Pidgin English, bleary eyes, broken bones (there's always one with a cast or on crutches) all swapping war stories, battles hard won or lost. The bouncer checks my ID again: "Yeah I know I totally don't look it but I swear I'm practically the furniture around here!". The nurse at the desk checks her list, stamps each patient and herds us all through. We file for our prescriptions at the bar (some have even smuggled in their own). We're grizzled veterans through and through. We're the end product of a daily grind, blood from a stone, cooped up in concrete, steel and glass, punching up nonsensical data. We're living for the weekend, hooked up on life support: all daisy chained pedals and pounding EEG's, we're the life of the party! We'll drink our fill till the clocks rewind, our eyes roll back, our minds go blank and we're reborn anew: dribbling infants and imbeciles, screaming and howling all wide-eyed with wonder. It's stupid I know, needlessly self destructive, but what else are we going to do when we live in a "nanny state"? For nothing quite beats making a statement this ironic and repeating it ad nauseum as often as unnecessary.
STEERING BY STARS (****) myspace :: And speaking of the definition of insanity (huh.. what!? it's a lifestyle choice!) this is also the third time in three consecutive weeks that I've seen our opening act. Awesome huh? Or technically the second time I've seen them on "record", or maybe the fifth time if we count every other instance their guitarist Rory O'Connor has made a cameo appearance in everything from that solo performance you saw on the previous Saturday to bass player for Aviator Lane the night before. FUCK YEAH!! Now if anyone's wondering if all these repeat exposures to their infinitely dense shoegazer sound might be producing some curious (read: hallucinogenic) side effects to my finer appreciation of their live set tonight? you'd be dead right! For the most part it boils down to Lachlan Wilson's "lysergic" singing voice (ie: one that sounds like every single biblical plague descending on your house at once whilst your brain gets sucked out by an industrial strength vacuum cleaner) and the accumilative effect it may be having on my enfeebled mind tonight. Now if we figure it takes the "average person" eight years, seven months and six months of nonstop screaming to produce enough energy to boil a cup of "coffee". Then factor in all the guitar pedals that Lachlan is using to magnify that shitscary intensity (especially in the fourth song "Dissonance"), multiply that by the three times I've seen them in the past three weeks (including tonight) and you may begin to understand where my mind's at. Yup, what we're talking about here is the psychological equivalent of me shaking a can of pepsi for three hours straight then slipping it into a microwave with a packet of pop rocks: only replace that "can of pepsi" with "WHOAAA FUCK I'M A GONNA DIE!!" (hmmm, so in other words maybe I should have changed my socks before I left the house tonight?). Still despite that "teeny tiny" side effect, it didn't for a minute diminish the soothing nature of their live set.. OOOOH FUCK NO!! In fact, thanks in no small part to Lachlan's incomprehensibly vague vocal delivery and the equally nebulous instrumention provided by Rory on guitar, Adrian Reveruzzi on bass and Tom Smeets on drums (ie: one that weaves in everything from M83, Deerhunter, The Horrors and the Egyptian "Book Of The Dead" into the one blissed out odyssey) they've effectively shifted our sensory perception to suit the occassion tonight. They're rather like playdough for the mind in that way, or maybe like a howling hypnogogic fog for the senses (or maybe it's vice versa? yeeouch!). Either way as much as the fashion tragics for "Plus One" may have been turning themselves inside out trying to get their heads around what was essentially a contemplative "warm up" set? I swear I was right where I wanted to be! To me it's an existentialist hangover cure. A timelapse photography running in reverse on a post mortem, reassembling it from all of its scattered remains into coilspring definition, jolting it back to life with a bolt of lightning and then sending it off on its merry way again (or in other words it's rather like a soothing blast of berocca) and it's having no less the miraculous effect in bringing me back to life tonight. It's literally adding "years" back to my shrunken monkey frame! Sure to YOU it may have sounded like an apocalyptic shitstorm in slow motion, seemingly summoned up by the Egyptian God "Set" to fuck up The Ed Castle band room from ceiling, sundown to sunrise (and everywhere else in between) only to close with a blissfully obscure "curtain call" in lightly dappled keys: but trust me, when you get to where I am? it's face meltingly profound! Steering By Stars: intricate, introspective, occassionally borderline incomprehensible but ultimately no less rewarding!
HEY FEVER (****) myspace :: Suitably refreshed by our opening act and their formatting effect on my harddrive: "wow I totally forgot how to tie my own shoelaces again.. awesome!", I hobble off to the bar with newfound purpose. The way I figure I'm only as "geriatric" as I feel tonight. Hangover? pfft.. what hangover? I never get hangovers!? Sure I've been living the same night a billion times over in my head. Sure I'm practically the "senior citizen" of this scene after writing this hilariously dysfunctional blog for the past four to five years (I'm probably dead already and I don't even know it!) but it's all just psychological maaan! I'm perfectly fine, it's just my brain's fault for fucking about with my base perceptions of spacetime and gravity. And thus I should do everything in my power to shut it down completely! Two to three dark ales at the bar should light the fuse to begin with, but it's bands quite like our second act tonight who'll be sure to finish the job. Yup, as much as it may've taken all my enfeebled strength to fight my way back through the increasingly dense fan frenzy flocking to the band room with my proverbial "walking stick" (ie: wave my camera around just long enough so that people actually believe I know what I'm doing? pfft.. you eiiidiots!) the minute I hit the epicentre out front? duuude I was completely gone! Hey Fever (touring here from Melbourne tonight) are in essence a "buzz band": a spastic explosion of surface noise, heat and energy. Only thankfully they somehow achieve all the above without simultaneously resorting to being a total metrosexual fashion disaster (or in other words I wonder if I'll slip in another joking reference to The Touch!? YEAAAS!!). Yup, they're truly a rare find indeed! Case in point especially is their lead singer Hayden who's signature "look" practically screams: dole queue fist fight, spilt bag of goon on the morning bus, charges of indecent exposure in Elizabeth Shopping Centre "what.. I'm not allowed to take a whizz into the Goodwill bin anymore!?", all stuffed into "dress shirt" for accompanying court date. He also possesses a singing voice that very much resembles that of a barking schnauzer and I swear it never lets up. Awesome! As such, in overall sound picture everything from the scenster spit and polish of The Arctic Monkeys, The Young Knives and The Rapture only rolled about in a gutter somewhere and cross pollinated with the punk extremes of The Vines, The Hives and maybe even the Dead Kennedys (WHOAAA!?). Or in other words it's a total Jekyll & Hyde headfuck but I swear in the best way possible! It's Ben and Alex both on guitar shredding their riffs to earbleed intensity, it's Rob and James on drums and bass respectively whipping the rhythm section into a veritable hummingbird heartattack, and it's Hayden's throat stripping voice quite literally stripping the paint of the walls in kind. For all of forty five minutes there's never a dull moment in their unrelenting assault, they'll keep on killing out there as long as the "zombie hoards" keep on coming, I swear they're madder than a Bobcat Goldthwait with a revved up chainsaw! That's Hey Fever. True to their name they'll clear out your sinuses, shit out your internals in an aerosol spray, and leave nothing but a grinning corpse (they also boil up a mean cup of noodles in less than two minutes!). So bring two farm fresh eggs, bacon, diced onion and grated cheese (or simply bring your own intestinal tract) and they'll provide all the rest!
THE SHINY BRIGHTS (*****) myspace :: For the past hour or so a pachyderm pounding headache has been brewing in my skull. I'm not quite sure exactly what it means (brain tumour anyone?) as clearly it's got nothing to do with the band that's been playing just prior (pfft of course not! they were nothing but a delicate spring bouquet unfurling in my mind *sneeze*). Nor does it have anything to do with the band room just now filling up with a pressure cooker crowd so skull fuckingly intense: eyes, ears, nose and throats are going off all around me like popcorn kernels. Nor does it have anything to do with the fact I've had fuckall sleep all week leading up to this auspicious occassion, followed by me drinking myself into an hilarious coma the night before, only to douse myself up on a mad hit of caffeine this afternoon to "recover" when I dropped into Rundle Mall to borrow a replacement phone at Borders Bookstore after mine completely shat itself on a Tuesday (cheers Heidi!) only to limp back into The Ed Castle this evening to hammer that last nail into my coffin. OOOOH FUCK NO!! It's just the dark ales I've been drinking.. yeah that's TOTALLY it! Weirder still, the minute I swapped it for pale ale? headache totally gone! Fuck it however the hell I got here? I'm right where I want to be for our headlining act! The Shiny Brights. Yup, in all the times I've seen live they've been nothing but a pissy support act playing second banana to a halfarsed scenster crowd more interested in "being seen" than anything in front of them. And yet in all that while they've also proven that they had so much more to offer. Their explosive sound and ADHD antics alone simply screaming "top billing" in all the best (and worst) ways possible. And at long last after hearing all the tall tales preceding them (ie: one show in particular at The Governor Hindmarsh back in 2008 featuring all those spastic tiger mascots) I FINALLY get to witness it all for myself (although possibly without the mascots): as they launch their brand new single "Not Too Old" at The Ed Castle. Yup make no mistakes about it tonight: here between business-like and baboon? THIS is where The Shiny Brights truly reign supreme: they're like a veritable "terrible twos" in banging pots and pans! And when you're shitfaced stuffed in a room like this packed to the ceiling? it's like a critical mass detonation, it fucking destroys like nothing else! In essence they're like every band at their hissy fit infancy. Picture that shrill, shredding burst of trigger happy noise that electrifies quite like a stabbed shot of adrenaline. Most specifically it's Grinspoon's "Just Ace", Lost Valentinos "Man With A Gun", Kings Of Leon's "Youth And Young Manhood", Bloc Party's "Silent Alarm" or The Arctic Monkeys' debut album stretching right back to the archetypal buzz of "Twist And Shout" by The Beatles. But its not so much the "sound" that grabs you the most, but the way in which they perform it. Lead by Nick "Wolfgang" Marwe (just like a spastic Daffy Duck on crack smashing the fuck out of his tambourine) and his shitcrazy cohorts equally as unhinged in shredding riffs and rhythms, they'll cover all points of the universe at once as the crowd can only respond in kind by spontaneously combusting in front of them. In every sense it's complete and utter chaos, it's one half bar of a phone signal telling the emergency crews where to dig out all your remains. And short of a blistering cover of The Easybeat's "Friday On My Mind", their launch single "Not Too Old" and a few other notables? it's a total blur attempting to make heads or tails of whatever-the-fuck they played. Still it didn't matter. We lived it all in spirit. It was all about the energy. We didn't need our brains at the beginning and by the end our bodies were simply rendered irrelevant. No shit, this is how all headlining shows should be: everything and nothing existing all in the same time and space and you waking weeks later missing a head! The Shiny Brights? WHOAAA FUCK YEAH!!
1:25AM - Many hours, eons, an eternity, or possibly just a few minutes later (yeaaah let's face it I've never been good with the specifics) The Ed Castle band room makes a resounding *ding*, the doors fly open, and out I pop freshly cooked: not necessarily "baked" but definitely bouncing off the walls. Yup everything's all shiny and new again, the world is a beautiful place to be in and I'm not at all bothered that I may possess a blood alcohol content drastically higher than that of my intelligence quotient.. YEAAAS!! Which of course leads to me bumping into Simone here. Not necessarily because this is the FIRST time we've ever crossed paths tonight, far from it: she's actually been around all along, fluttering about in the wings like a mad muppet making exciteable shrieking sounds. She rather liked the first band Steering By Stars, had a particularly odd fixation with calling their lead singer "Vanilla Cupcake" and said he bore a striking resemblance to standup comedian Josh Thomas from the quiz show "Talkin' 'Bout Your Generation" (yeah I know.. isn't she awesome!?). Of course this is first time she's actually made an "appearance" in this blog tonight because it took until THIS very moment (ie: until I was this blitheringly shitfaced drunk) to forget just how many times she's featured in this blog before (and all for reasons that are likely equally as incomprehensible) and figured "aaaah what the hell.. LET'S FEATURE HER SOME MORE!!".
Besides being exceptionally photogenic (almost annoyingly so) and thus the "bane of my blogging existence" (*sigh* just you try saying no this shit!?) she also fills all manner of other "vital" roles here in Spoz's Rant, such as: cheerleader, comic relief, fanclub secretary, dancefloor assassin, defacto "little sister" but also in the "Hunter S" sense she acts as my attorney. And by "attorney" I totally don't mean she's any kind of qualified legal council (pfft.. dude I swear she's gets me into MORE trouble than out of!) but more so in the fact that she often operates as a welcome "sidekick" to any and all activities that may possibly involve YOU waking up head first in a wheelie bin.
Speaking of such here's her specialty drink of choice: the "vodka rasberry". If ever you've wondered why she always flapping about like an hysterical "six year old" in the body of an adult? well now you know! (it's the rasberry cordial that makes all the difference!). Of course I wouldn't touch the junk meself (I swear it's like kryptonite) but in her case we like to think it gives her freaky awesome superpowers, or possibly just freaky awesome vomiting powers; either way I think you get the idea. Oh and as for the random "hitchhiker" we appear to have collected along the way? Yeah I've got no freaking clue WHERE she finds them either, most of the time they just start "following her around".. I know!? Apparently this one's called "Johandré", he's 19, and yes this is possibly the first and last time you'll ever see him before we steal his wallet, both his shoes and dump his charred carcass in the carpark behind Jive *cough* hi Johan, welcome to the blog!
And now for the dubious benefit of our viewing audience: Simone will now demonstrate the "proper ettiquette" for drinking a vodka rasberry (or more accurately two at the same time). Note the refined elegance and poise in which she consumes both her drinks whilst simultaneously managing not to spill (most of) it all over herself. You'll note this differs somewhat from the one employed by her fiancé Joe Blogs from a few weeks ago (ie: see accompanying demonstration) who much prefers the "all over osmosis" method. Hmmm.. and people wonder why I only drink beer!?
Still there are always chance exceptions to the rule, especially when I have my attorney present to helpfully remind me of them.. awesome! Like this old time favourite from 2006-2007. One which we never actually came up with a proper name for, but Simone otherwise loves to refer to as the "Tesquila Tamascamamo". Simply serve up one shot tequila, one shot tomato juice (ideally with four added drops tabasco) then down in that order. The way the tomato takes the edge off that tequila shot only to leave a whimsical tabasco "afterburn".. aaaah simply priceless! Oh and as a helpful added tip for all you aspiring "live music bloggers" out there (weird.. why do I hear crickets all a sudden!?) it also affords you the golden opportunity to run like hell the minute Simone's back is turned so you don't feel obliged to take a squillion more photos of her drinking.. YEAAAS!!
1:37AM - Speaking of such: here's where you would have found me hiding moments later (whilst Simone laughs hysterically attempting to "chase her own tail") as me and Alice here (or wait.. I think that's her name!?) play the ever popular drinking game of "rock/paper/scissors". Only this one's updated as a highstakes photography "Spoz-off": where the aim of the game is to pull a facial expression even MORE fucked up than the one Spoz is sporting. Obviously this is by no means an EASY challenge (some may claim it's impossible) but to her infinite credit Alice definitely gives it her all to usurp the undisputed "master". Take round one for instance as I attempt the "frowning puffer fish", only for Alice to expertly counter with the "Magnum PI". Spoz: 0, Alice: 1.
In round two I pull the "headcrab" (which I admit wasn't my smartest strategy) while Alice counters with a "playschool peek-a-boo". As neither is essentially more "fucked up" (although arguably Alice's has slightly more chance frightening small children) this one's a tie. Spoz: 0, Alice: 1.
In round three I pull the ultimate trump card, "the unshaved gimp". So astounding is it that Alice doesn't even have an effective response, she's completely floored. I know, it's almost cheating when I'm THIS ridiculously "good looking" but I needed to make up lost ground. Spoz: 1, Alice: 1.
Now usually this game is only played in three rounds but Alice here has proved to be SUCH the diabolical adversary (so much so I was actually forced to play catch-up.. yeeeouch!) she's pushed the game right up to the tie-breaker to decide: "the individual challenge". In no other time has anyone EVER bested me here, but I think we can all agree that Alice's affinity for the game truly knows no bounds. There is no way in hell I could possibly beat THIS move, I stand defeated!
Of course it's only NOW that Alice comes to realise there are no real "winners" in Spoz-off..
And so in a last ditch effort to "save face" in what will surely be an hilarious feature presentation in Saturday's episode (oh relax.. it's not like anyone ever reads this junk!) she throws Ben Brew in front of me and runs screaming off into the night. Hmmm and to think I actually wondered why I couldn't find her anywhere after this? fuck damn I'm a genius! who want's to play another round!?
1:48AM - Stumbling inside in search of more alcohol (because clearly THAT'S the best solution) I inexplicably bump into someone I'm actually related to. I KNOW!! Still in effort to preserve her "anonymity" (as let's face it she knows where I live) I'm not at liberty to discuss how she's related or who she is. But hey, you're probably still getting over the shock that I've got legitimate family relations and wasn't merely "hatched" in a laboratory somewhere to even care what her name is. She's awesome though, totally plays in a professional lacrosse team and everything.. true story!
1:56AM - This is Wolfgang, you may remember him from.. yeah fuckit, you know what? we really don't even NEED a caption, as this shot pretty much speaks for itself. Still if ever you've wondered how I sneak myself into so many shows for "free" (despite constantly providing evidence for why that's a monumentally bad idea) it's photos like these that may begin to give you a clue. And if you think THIS is bad? imagine for a moment all the "unpublished ones" I keep for blackmail.
And to think there's STILL bands out there, scores of them in fact (hi Buster Fidez!) who'd give their left nut to make a "starring appearance" in this blog!? I know! it never ceases to amaze me.
Hmmm and you'd think I would've remembered to shave before I left the house tonight?
2:20AM - And speaking of "regular cast members" for reasons I can never quite fathom, it's time I checked up on Simone again. I mean you know how it is, me being the "older brother" and all. I DO worry about her sometimes. Why just the other day I swear I caught her "reading a book". And that time I stumbled upon her "knitting up a sweater"!? OH THE HUMANITY!! But thankfully no, it appears she's simply acting up by the main bar "business as usual". Of course I haven't the foggiest clue what any of that actually entails but still, this right here: smile on my dial.. awwww!
2:26AM - And it was only then that I inexplicably discovered a FOURTH band playing in the band room, here playing to almost no one at the end of the night. Weird! I mean I totally didn't believe my eyes either and yet here they are in front of us: victims of an apparent "double booking". I'm told they're from Melbourne, they're called Matt Joe Gow & The Dead Leaves, and as much as I could gather they appear to be some kind of southern fried country rock 'n roll act, check 'em out! Of course I didn't stick around to investigate further as apparently I'm exceptionally drunk right now (and I believe Simone might be "sewing up a quilt" as I speak) so I'll leave them be. Ever wondered what would happen if a tree fell in the woods and no one was around to witness it!? you're looking at them! Here's hoping they have a safe (eight hour) trip back to Melbourne.
2:37AM - Of course when you see unfortunate mixups like that and you start to put all these pieces together, you're reminded just where this mess is heading. The future isn't in live bands, it isn't in the "arts", or talent, or anything that anyone would pay "money" to go see. FUCK NO!! It's all about being a wildly obnoxious indie club spinner.. YEAAAS!! Now obviously Ross Osmon wouldn't know the first thing about all that. He's awesome! He's running like what.. four or five raging scenster shindigs by now (let alone this one every Saturday night). Still it couldn't hurt to give a dopey kid like me a chance. Sure I wouldn't know the first thing about crossfading, can't judge a crowd for shit and my taste in music is absolutely abyssmal but would that ever stop me!? HELL NO!! Modular Records and an overabundance in cocaine and hookers!? HERE WE COME!!
2:48AM - Yup I like to think I know a few things about "stuff", and some stuff about "things" (huh, what!? oh I've got no fucking idea!). I can see how this all fits together, the bigger picture, the grand cosmic "scheme", in my head right here? I'm totally gone! Take Hayden here for example, lead singer from Hey Fever. He's in an aspiring "happening" Melbourne band, they're like.. I dunno touring and shit, they're "going places" and they may be thinking "hey, we've got a pretty sweet deal!". But y'know what could make it SO much sweeter duuude!? Why not add a token "Simone" to your band! It totally worked for The Black Eyed Peas.. IT COULD TOTALLY WORK FOR YOU!!
I mean sure she dances like a Jackie Chan movie and she can't sing for shit (and seriously I would know!) but hey, she's really "weirdly" attractive.. and duuude? that's all you need! Yeah you're totally digging the mad frequencies we're spinning aren't ya!? get some keytars happening, some eskimo shades, get Timbaland to produce your debut and some funky robots!? FUCK YEAH!!
Hmmm is this hilarious prank of ours getting out of hand? OOOH FUCK NO!! (still.. where DID I keep that fire extinguisher? I could've sworn I kept one handy for "occassions" such as these)
3:23AM - Fearing any minute now the crowds could turn against us at The Ed Castle (hahahaha no seriously: no one EVER give me any kind of "power and influence" or we're all gonna be screwed!) I pulled my "little sister" Simone out of harms way and took her to Supermild instead where nothing untoward COULD POSSIBLY EVER HAPPEN!! Of course it did take a little convincing at first, I may have had "to lie a little" (ok, maybe a lot) and maaaybe tell her we were going to "Disneyland" instead? but just look at her simple wide-eyed joy the minute we got her to the front door!? awww I know! And aren't we thankful they only check "proof of age" and not maturity!? I know I am!
3:34AM - Yup looking after your "bundle of joy" can try your patience even at the best of times. I find it helps to be informed but not alarmed, be aware of your surroundings, use your brain to its fullest potential (or what's left of it) and always ALWAYS learn from your mistakes. For instance: checking the label on this long neck bottle of sparkling ale would be considered a WISE move..
Handing it to Simone however, not so much.
3:58AM - And then moments later when some "random" nitwit waddled upto me, trousers around his ankles, with a pout and frown, complaining that he did a "poopie-poo in his whoopsie-woo" and didn't know what to do about it.. I realised just how far gone the situation had become. The sooner I get the hell out of here the better! Or you know, just as soon as I finish sucking on my bottle.
Yup, I'm increasingly discovering that all things are relative and especially after a few too many beers at the tail end of a Saturday. It's all down to "perception". Time doesn't simply flow in the one direction. There is no past, present or future. It can run both ways: forwards, backwards and frequently in loops. Sometimes it's a particle and a wave, sometimes its playing ping pong, sometimes it exists at all points of the universe and you don't know where you are or when you'll get there, and sometimes it simply leaves an exploding mess on the ceiling and you need a step ladder and a spatula to scrape it all out. Hmmm. What the fuck am I on about? If only I knew! How long is a "long time"? who cares!? as long as I'm having a good time it's all fine by me.
