seen better legs on a table.

So, It looks like the Old Bar is becoming our new haunt for the time being. I've been there more in the last month that I have is the past year and a half, but not enough so that my outfits haven't had to be repeated.

I was there Sunday, for the last night of Buried Horses residency. I missed most of Death Valley Band, but was able to catch the Orphanage. They were okay, I don't actually remember them because I was too busy being surprised and bitchy, but the songs I heard over the internet were pretty good.

Buried Horses were really good (my vocab. just isn't the same anymore- i need to start reading again!), and I wasn't hit by anything. My friend and I played our usual copycat game during their set, and I think we're good enough to do the moves without the live band backing now.

I think I have seen them so many times that soon they will be overtaking the live play count (a la iTunes) of Digger and the Pussycats. I'm stuck in a complete social inertia when it comes to liking things, but I guess this is keeping with the animal theme, so it's not too difficult to handle.

Another thing that has been incessantly happening is Johnny Cash covers. Bands are all over him, the last four times I have been out three bands have covered the man in black. Not that that's a bad thing.
Unlike some people I know.

cuddles beach- a good place to take your girlfriend (and stab her)

My Dad and I went and had a geezer at the Tote exhibition, and there was so many cool posters. I got Tote-stamped for the last time, and like I was actually at the hotel, I felt like I was about five in comparison to everyone else who was there.

Then I went and found my new boyfriend, Gareth Liddiard. He was playing at the Northcote Social Club, doing a run of special solo shows. I've loved the Drones for quite a while now, but things are never in my favour when I want to see them live.
There was a girl with a guitar, followed by Jacky Winter. I recognised a lot of his songs, and he did a really cool cover of a Mum Smokes song. I was kind of worried at this stage though, because I brought my Dad along for his birthday. He's a bit more into punk (I think) than all this guitary stuff, but I needn't have worried- Gareth Liddiard was so much more amazing than I ever would have imagined and I bow my head in shame for ever doubting him.
His banter between songs was hilarious, I never really thought he would be so funny, as all the interviews I have ever read of his seemed serious. He joked about Australian music icons, roughnecks and tightrope walkers who tightrope walked over Niagara Falls, the back over again, walking with boxes of their feet and cooking an omlette. Plus, he had the cutest laugh I have ever heard.

I'm definitely in love with him.

fuck 'er in the eye.

I saw all the extremities last night at the Old Bar. There was a guy who had the biggest feet I have ever seen. If only his shoes were painted red, he would be a great clown. On the other end of the scale, there was a man with the tiniest toes ever. There was also heaps heaps of torso's ranging on the hair-o-metre from gorilla to school-boy.

Buried Horses played first and were great, as per usual. I'm not overly keen on some of the new songs, but they're good to see and I was relieved not be hit with any tambourines. They tuned by playing bits of Pop Crimes, which was exciting/cool.

Teen Archer played next. I think I had the confused with the Twerps, so I wasn't really prepared for their sounds. Some of the songs were alright, but mostly I didn't like them. I spent most of my time in courtyard during this.

Assassination Collective were pretty cool. The drummer from the Stabs was in it, and he was so hairy (not as hair as Sam from Digger, though. He showed us- or the guy talking to me, Liam- his chest at one stage). There was also this girl who looked liked my year seven Geography teacher in the band. It was cute because she yelled when she sung.

Digger and the Pussycats were the same as they were last week, but I think the reason that I never really get sick of them is because of their amusing banter between songs. This time it mainly revolved around BJ's, and getting naked.

There was this drunken buffoon lady trying her hardest to get fifteen minutes of fame. She got up to sing at the end of the last song, instead of saying "oh yeah" she was shouting, "fuck 'er in the eye". It was funny at the start, then she just got annoying and kept speaking when the song had finished. The sound guy cut off the mike, but you could still hear her.

You sing like a cunt!

this song is for all the sluts out there.

Yah Yah's is really starting to frustrate me in how they state that their show will be free, then hit you with a charge at the door. I don't care about paying, but I'd like to know how much I need to save over the week to get my feet in the door

I went there to see Digger and the Pussycats for their album launch and a plethora of other bands/men that I love. Lucky I had twelve dollars in my pocket.

Precious Jules was Kim Salmon and another smaller, hairier man. Kim Salmon is shorter than expected, and aside from that and his overgrown hair-do he was LOVELY. I really think that I wish he was my husband, but the height difference (and i suppose the age difference ha) is just too much. Bad luck, Kim.

I had waited so, so, so long to see Legends of Motorsport live, and I think I was a tiny bit disappointed. All I wanted them to do was play Brunswick Ladies and they didn't do it. They were cute, nonetheless, and the singer still has the worst/best voice ever.

Digger and the Pussycats were their usual shit self, they played heaps of stuff from their new album but it seemed like a shorter that the usual short set. Andy said it was because they had been drinking for a million hours prior. They played the cunt and slut song, so I was happy.

My friend then touched a punk's mohawk, and went on search for the world greatest kebab. We met a man dressed as a lady on our journey and he took us to a drag queen party in Carlton in exchange for a cigarette, where we drank goon from clotheslines.

Don't tell my mum.