I have to say I absolutely love this band. Their music rocks in a hardcore meets Lynyrd Skynyrd sort of way, and they have one of the most energetic and entertaining live shows ever. The frontman, Valient Himself, is so charismatic that his only choices in life would have been to either front a rock band or to become a cult leader. I think he made the right choice.
On top of it all, he's a really cool guy. He always takes time to talk with his fans (we are called "Thorriers" by the way, and TFN and I are members of the Great Lakes Thorriers chapter). He's a genuinely good guy.Oh, and the band is from Venus, by way of NC. They are here to spread a message of positive thinking and brotherhood through the power of rock. I hope they succeed.
The reason I bring them up is that I've seen them four times, including a show in Austin with Wayne Kramer of the MC5. Tonight will be the fifth time I see them, and I'm stoked.
If you weren't too grossed out by the injury photos I posted yesterday, then I have an even more gruesome tale to relate... and it's about living in fear in one's own house.
The day TFN returned from Oregon, I got home from work and we left to go out with a bunch of friends at the aforementioned nice place that had the poor judgment of allowing us free access to the jukebox. After we had our fun, we went home.
Upon arrival at the house, things seemed normal. We went through the various rituals of getting ready for bed, not noting anything out of the ordinary. Shane was lying on his dog bed, happily chewing on one of his toys... no he wasn't.
What was the dog chewing on so happily? I got closer to him, but couldn't tell, so I took it away to investigate.
It was a crusty chunk of material.
After we left, Shane had opened up TFN's luggage, gotten into her dirty laundry, and found one of her socks. It happened to be the sock that she had been wearing when she fell through the cattle grate and sliced her leg to the bone. It was the sock that became soaked with blood in the ensuing ride down the mountain in search of medical attention.
It was a sock that had been soaked in blood.
Human blood.
Now I don't know what to do. I don't feel like I can trust this dog anymore. He's tasted human blood. Can I safely turn my back on him now? Can I sleep safely knowing he's lying on the floor next to the bed, possibly dreaming about that taste that he'll never forget?Could you trust this beast?
2 comments:
Oh, dear.
Trust Shane.
I hesitate to explain how I know you can trust Shane, but it involves a certain dog I know who got into the bathroom waste basket of a lesbian couple I know. The lesbians cycle together, and I'm not talking bikes. This was months ago. Both lesbians remain unmolested by the dog.
In all seriousness, Shane has also gotten into similar bathroom trash as well. I honestly doubt he has a taste for "long pig."
He is simply gross about certain things. The litter box also needs to be strategically placed to prevent him from using it as a buffet.
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