At the top of my untidily scrawled To-Do List is this entry: 'Organise Book Launch'. I have been informed (or rather, my husband took a message) that the upcoming 'Silver Studs and Sabre Teeth' should be back from the printer in two days. So tomorrow I will make a guest list, and think about liaising with the library re a tentative date for the launch. I have already spoken with the local ABC Radio journalist, and sent him a copy of the book's publicity blurb. Most people these days seem to be getting publicity due to some questionable means, so whether that means I must leak a sex tape onto the Internet remains to be seen. I am rather excited about this.
What I am not excited about is some of the bile I have read on social media lately regarding the postponement of the Aussie leg of the Rolling Stones' tour. To all you crabby, bilious arsewipes who said, 'So what? People die every day. Get over it', I must ask, 'What part of 'Mick Jagger's Partner Died' do you not understand?' Do you seriously believe you were going to get your money's worth had Jagger taken to the stage the other night as originally planned? The strut that is just so entrenched in his stage persona would be a mere step. There would be no oomph, no power, no raunch. There would be a pall hanging over the stage, and I daresay over the audience because it would be on the minds of most fair-thinking and true Stones fans. You will no doubt get your money back, or be able to use your ticket at a future concert. I'm sure the promoters will work out something. For God's sake, let the poor man grieve and then return at a later date, where he will no doubt give you what you've paid for. I have seen Jagger twice: once on his 1988 solo tour, and again on the Voodoo Lounge tour in 1995. Trust me, when he is at the top of his game, it will be worth the wait. It's interesting to note that Keith Richards took to the stage in the mid-70s almost immediately after being informed of the tragic cot death of his infant son. I do not judge him for this, and daresay this was Keith's own coping mechanism. Also, Keith's grief was personal, whereas Mick's is being played out on a public stage with everyone hovering like vultures over a dying buffalo in the desert. But in the meantime, can everyone please stop being arseholes? That would be good.
What else is on my mind? Those little plastic containers that sit over the rim of the toilet bowl in which sits a cake of something meant to sanitise the bowl, kind of like the way a canary sits in a cage. These things annoy the living snot out of me. Often, with my job, I have to clean people's toilets, and my teeth just set on edge when I am faced with one of the infernal contraptions as I pour in the product and get ready to give the bowl a once-over (or twice-over if it's flecked with hardened shit stains; it happens) with the toilet brush. I bump the damn cage, and it swings around in the bowl, sending down a wash of blue something. I don't know what's in the blue something, but it's probably capable of stripping the veneer off a block of apartments. Hate it.
Question: will the song 'Come on, Eileen' by Dexy's Midnight Runners be used as the soundtrack to a bukkake DVD some time in the future? Discuss.
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