I have a thing for long titles. I'm pretty sure that's from my love of bands like Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, Cobra Starship, Paramore... you get it. Anyways, I cannot in good conscience begin this introduction to the blog series I'm going to be doing without showing you the title properly formatted, so here you are: From the Winged Hussars scaring me awake, to Sabaton Open Air: My Journey as a Sabaton fan The Introduction I once said in high school that I should have my poetic license revoked for using such flowery language. Unfortunately for you all, no such thing has occurred and I remain as flowery as my aunt's old acreage, Kickass Ranch. This is going to be a blog series of three parts? Maybe four? Think of it like Eragon. It was supposed to be a trilogy as initially imagined by Christopher Paolini, but it eventually turned into a saga as one part had to be split into two. I don't think this will be quite so dramatic about it, if it goes that way. The pl
Great googly moogly, it's all gone to shit! Gah. How to start. The most logical place is at the beginning I suppose, but it's much more fun to drop you straight into the action. I'm in a bra and panties, draped on the shining black bench of a baby grand piano. The black bra with red lace that I love so much accentuates my curves perfectly (I mean, it is a push-up bra, if it didn't help with aesthetics, I'd return the damn thing). My thighs are slightly apart, back arched, head tipped back, my hair cascading down my back... and 1 angry guy at the door. "This is a family-friendly environment!" Right... at 2pm on a Friday, while the cheeldrens are still in school, with the main window covered and a secondary window that's hidden from major lookage not covered but not exactly super visible, barely anyone there, no kids in sight, sure it is. Whoops, I guess. I'm at the VSO's school of music. To be honest with you, I'm still feeling a littl