Mad Science

For the most part, I begin most of my blog postings with the phrase "for the most part." Perhaps I should start all of them this way. Eh, we'll see. I also noticed that I don't make many posts in March. In fact, zero. If I remember correctly, last year I didn't post in March because I was without a computer. This year it was because I was super busy.

My band, Verdict of Vengeance, finally found a drummer. Because our previous drummer had gotten too fat and out of shape to perform metal, and thus had to quit, we went almost a whole year without playing. This contributed to 2009 being one of the worst years of my life. Having an outlet for release and creativity is very important to me and for the last twelve years my band was the primary source. Without it I probably became even balder. For sure, my urge to kill rose steadily. Happy days are here again, though, for the total antithesis of the last dude has arrived.

Pictured: the reason my band mates just went on a diet.

The funny part is that when I say "total antithesis" I freaking mean it. Our last drummer was a 6'1 and 350lb slab of sweaty jiggly fat. You would swear he was born of a gene splicing between jello and big-macs. Our new drummer is a romance novel cover model. Read that last sentence again. Hyperbole and superlatives aside, he is one of the sexiest humans on this planet, and he actually appears in the book shelves of your local super-market on the cover of sleazy romance novels. You know, one of those people you don't believe exists until you see them. Also, he’s one of those people that drastically decrease your chances of attracting the opposite sex. Don't believe me? Click here.

That link should send you to a male strip club where he is the main event. Come to find out, most male exotic dancers are fans of heavy metal and travel in oiled up strip-packs. When I show up to band practice now, not only do I have the super model drummer waiting for me, but there are also a handful of other muscle bound studs standing around lifting heavy things over their heads, enjoying the adulation of a gaggle of women, and totally making me consider becoming a monk because I am never getting laid again. That's fine; at least I am jamming now.

At a recent show—our first with Mr. Sexypants—after we finished our set and I stepped off stage, a female ran up to me, grabbed my dude-boob, and told me ab for ab how hot my new drummer is. She then skipped away like a prancing bunny. This is the first time I have ever seen chicks that were happy to have attended a heavy metal show. Like, whoa!

I don't want to be unfair; the new dude is a fantastic musician and a wonderful human being. The whole band is very grateful for his arrival and we look forward to many awesome shows with him. I am also looking forward to collecting his sweat droplets and harvesting his DNA for personal "improvements," or in other words, self-help mad scientist style.

"At last, Angelo juice!"

There is more to share so check back for more posts over the next few days.

Love,
Smiley Grimm