I was asked to write a review of a Sub's show last week. I don't understand why I was picked to do this. I've written short stories and such but never a music review and I can't sing, play a note or even dace copetently (outside of a Sid Viscious inspierd pogo perhaps), so I doubt that I'm even qualified.
I also cut the shit out of the palm of my hand. I was wiring the garage at the new house and managed to get my hand in the way of some wire cutters. It basicly cut a chunk out of the palm of my left hand. It's not that bad, but it sure stings every time I move my index finger or grip something...I guess I'm reduced to right handed solo loving for a while.
Enough stalling. I need to knock out that review or a six foot punk rock girl is going to beat me up.
I also cut the shit out of the palm of my hand. I was wiring the garage at the new house and managed to get my hand in the way of some wire cutters. It basicly cut a chunk out of the palm of my left hand. It's not that bad, but it sure stings every time I move my index finger or grip something...I guess I'm reduced to right handed solo loving for a while.
Enough stalling. I need to knock out that review or a six foot punk rock girl is going to beat me up.
I think i'd write fast if a six foot punk rock girl was coming after me
I can't believe you have a chevy ,I've only ever seen pictures if them