Something to die for

Lamb of God was SICK AS. We all head-banged like emotionally disturbed teenagers and at some point, my brother got into the circle pit, fell down, and had five black-clad metalheads fall on top of him.

I didn’t manage to get any pictures, but a video would have been awesome – the lights were bright and punchy, rotating strobes that pulsed in time to Chris Adler’s double pedal. I remember thinking at some point that they should’ve issued an epilepsy warning.

Like a wuss, I’m totally suffering the after effects of whiplash even now, and last night, my brother showed me some noxious snake oil type muscle relaxant he’s been plastering all over his back before bed each night. The space between our rooms smells like an ointment factory, for which Chip is not grateful in the least.

This is the price we pay for being too cool for school. Or something.

After the concert, we stuffed our faces at Burger King, where I had a kid’s meal of some sort. It came with this toy, which no one could quite figure out, except for the fact that it looks like an anthropomorphic turd.

Apparently, they’re giving out a series of “Elements” and this is supposed to be Earth, or, the sludge that you find in the bottom of your sewer.

The description on the little slip of paper that came with it described Earth as being this good-natured, sweet smelling being who showers people with flowers every day.

Odder still, the little plastic thing literally SMELLS SWEET. As someone tried to explain it – kind of the way your cabbage patch kid doll smelled sweet. Well, I don’t know, I never had cabbage patch kids when I was little, I was too much of a badass for that, yo.

However, (and that is a typical journalism segue for you), it did stink up my tote the whole of yesterday, in a kind of cloying plastic fug, so much so that I have banished it to a high shelf on my bookcase. Little Shit can dispense flowers at me from there, if it so chooses.

Yeah, I don’t know. I really dig the Whopper, but you’ve really got to lift your merchandising game, BK.

Heather grey dress - The Station. Bolero - Some Korean shop at Central.

Yellow tights - Topshop. Leather Oxfords - New Look ($29 only!!)

I didn’t actually wear this to the concert, this was the day before, I think, where I was showing some love to my yellow tights. I love mustard (on clothing and on sausages) more than you can imagine and on certain people, I think the colour really pops.

My friend Sera, the last time I visited her, had an awesome mustard-coloured blouse which really suited her complexion.

Someone wanted some love that day.

That morning, I came out of the shower to the sight of my slanket (ohmygodlikethebestinventionever) balled up in a giant plush pile, and was about to fling myself face down on it violently, when a faint snoring noise stopped me in my tracks.

I uncovered the following vermin. Sometimes I seriously worry that I will roll over and kill him in my sleep one night.

Also, an old friend visited me at work. We go a long way back to drunken nights in Washington DC, running around a freezing campus in our pajamas and cooking entirely invented recipes to feed an army of 14.

He wanted this picture as proof that we had met that day, so, here ya go Glenn. Now people will know fo’ sho’ that we are not the same person because we have been sighted in the same place at the same time!

Shirt - RVCA. Jeans - General Pants.

Watch - Breitling. Shoes - Puma.

Cool James Dean 'tude - Priceless.

I actually really love these jeans, they’re soft and light and ever so slightly bleached – kind of perfect for a rainy Friday at work.

Oh and... some new arm candy from la belle France!

My mother goes there for business and apparently knows this uber-metrosexual salesman, Pascal, who delights in nothing more than talking about himself in the third person, hanging bags from his arm and parading back and forth in the shop to demonstrate their versatility vis: “Pascal will show you Madame! Look at the beautiful colour for Spring! Pascal promise you it is the best one!”

Well, thanks Pascal! I’ve never ever had the privilege of owning a Le Pliage before, so I’m as excited as a barrel of Roborovski hamsters on speed.

In immortal words of Hilary Banks on that episode of Fresh Prince when she had to go to court and showed up late because she realised she would have to raise her hand to swear and made a detour to buy a pair of zebra-print gloves: Could you just die?!