Fever broken. Woke up in a pool of fever sweat, which is unpleasant in itself, but good news for the morrow.
So what do recently convalescent fa-reeks do once they're no longer on their death beds?
Why, go to death metal shows, of course!
You know, Cookie Monster Rock. Windmill Hair Shows. 457 BPM. That's faster than a hummingbird's heartrate.
I'm no death metal fan, but living with Nalcée of Scrotesque, I have, at least, learned to appreciate the "finer" points, if they can be called that.
Tonight I saw (let me see if I can get this right), Carnival Corpse, Syphilitic Carnage, Malodorous Creation and Dudes of Flesh.
Patti was bartending. "What's the male to female ratio of this crowd?"
I questioned back, "What 'female ratio'?"
I saw some mullets.
Everyone had a band shirt on. My favorite: "Anal Cunt." (Wouldn't that technically be "Taint"?)
Many people bought Pabst Blue Ribbon.
I just ran into Nalcée in the hallway. He poked my chest, laughing, "Ha ha, you saw a death metal show."
"Yah, and I'm surprised at how I was actually somewhat entertained."
My review, in three words, "It Didn't Suck!"
(But it was still pretty damn silly.)
Dream interpretation experts, I summon you. What does it mean to dream of losing teeth? I plum fergit.
Just did an AskJeeves search. From the various responses I got it could mean that…