A touch late, but took this late Monday. Too much ETID and MATSOD in preparation for Borderlines. Ah well.

Fucking raucous show. Photos are more of a “look how mental this was” than a “look how well I randomly captured these maniacs flying about a stage they could barely all fit on”. Still; enjoy.

If any band member reads this, thank you fucking much. Best show ever. I couldn’t get everyone, but there was no way I was walking through that pit. No way.

That should be everything. Sorry it’s image heavy, but this is my website.

Toilet training is getting SO much better this week. He’s getting good at finding a door and sitting by it to let us know he wants to go out. Problem is both our kitchen doors are identical and I think he might get confused a bit. Couldn’t say for sure, though.

We’ve had our last set of jabs, so this time next week, we’ll be going out for walkies, which I’m really excited about. He has so much energy, I think walking’s going to really help.

He’s generally becoming a much nicer dog to me, as well. All the persistent command-shouting is really paying off, and he’s now understanding commands (even if he chooses to ignore them if there’s something better going on). Generally a much more trustworthy member of the household now – I’m a lot more comfortable with him being unsupervised outside his cage for short periods of time, and he’s not doing anything to betray that trust, so it’s going well!

Considering the time of year, there’s been a lot of girly, scream-free music on the turntables this week.

I both love and hate this. It’s a great way to get closure after an event, the outcome of which has already gone or is beyond your control. Being the incredibly witty fellow I am, I often miss out on l’espirit d’escalier, but if you’re the sort of person who gets abuse shouted at you from cars, I imagine it’s quite a frequent occurrence!

Returning from a jaunt, a delightful chap in a Chrysler Voyager wound his window down, especially to shout “pull your trousers up, you scruff” at me as he drove past (he didn’t do it as I walked past whilst his car was stationary, by the way. I’m pretty dangerous-looking).

It wasn’t until I was nearly home, having replayed the moment a thousand times already, each with me emerging the intellectual victor (and one time, doing a huge jump onto the roof of his car, punching through, pulling him out and throwing him under a bus. I should write a screenplay), it occurred to me: this contextually appropriate, piquant comeback, better than a million flip-kicks; “wouldn’t that make it harder for you to kiss my ass?!”.

When I tell people about this, you and I will know the true sequence of events, but everyone else will think I’m a quick-witted genius.