Guy down the road was watering the lawn in his speedos the other afternoon. I thought "Geez mate, there's only a thin lycra pouch between your ballbag and the outside world".
Who's the sicko in this situation. Me? Him? Probably him. He was watering his already verdantly green lawn like some kind of water wasting exhibitionist. He was channeling those 'little boy' fountain statues that backyard comedians point to repeatedly at family barbecues.
I went home and ate some chorizo and dreamt of figs.
I finished my course. I'm legal now. If you want me to design the cover of your next record, work on the inlays of a set of limited edition sneakers, or need me to photoshop boobs onto your brothers photo - get at me. Just set me up with some hardwood floors, some Euro furniture, a new Mac, Italian coffee and leave me in charge of iTunes and you have a deal. Not much. Also partial to a clean black T-shirt and atlantic salmon each day.