(no subject)

[thejunipertree]

Five Three abortionists walk into a bar.

Four drinks later and a giggling drive home, my voice is almost shot from whiskey, far too many cigarettes, and attempting to shout to my co-workers over a rather mediocre guitar player who told us he didn't know any Pogues. The guy asked for requests, we obliged. It's not our freaking fault he's no taste in music!

grrrraawr!

Man, my voice is broken. I'm all scratchy and growly.




He also wouldn't play War Pigs.
Fucker.