Today I was horrified to discover that my bedroom indeed smells like cat piss. This is especially disturbing since I don’t have a cat. I will report back to you with more news on this later. In the meantime, here’s some more rock music for you courtesy of my unstoppable rock band Valley Lodge. The song is called “Hanging On” and is available for you to stream and/or download when I’m not looking here:

http://us.share.geocities.com/theblackmetaldialogues/Hangingon.mp3

Once again, I would have just put a link for you to click on instead of having to deal with all that copying and pasting bo-crap, but Geocities won’t let me do that for some reason that I don’t quite understand, mostly because I just woke up from a nap. Anyway, I hope you like it. It’s pretty incredible, so don’t go blaming me if you soil yourself while rocking out to it.

Dave Hill

Today I was horrified to discover that my bedroom indeed smells like cat piss. This is especially disturbing since I don’t have a cat. I will report back to you with more news on this later. In the meantime, here’s some more rock music for you courtesy of my unstoppable rock band Valley Lodge. The song is called “Hanging On” and is available for you to stream and/or download when I’m not looking here:

http://us.share.geocities.com/theblackmetaldialogues/Hangingon.mp3

Once again, I would have just put a link for you to click on instead of having to deal with all that copying and pasting bo-crap, but Geocities won’t let me do that for some reason that I don’t quite understand, mostly because I just woke up from a nap. Anyway, I hope you like it. It’s pretty incredible, so don’t go blaming me if you soil yourself while rocking out to it.

Dave Hill

That whole making-my-own-hot-sauce thing from yesterday turned out to be a pretty rough situation from start to finish and is still threatening to complicate my day as I type this. Things got ugly early on when I started grinding up the peppers in the little Cuisinart thing I found tucked away in my kitchen closet. As it turns out, when you grind up really hot peppers and then take the lid off the grinding device right away, the effect is not unlike blasting yourself in the face with pepper spray. At least that’s how it happened with me anyway. Still, I figured if my hot sauce was making me cough/choke/gag just from smelling it, I was probably onto something as far as making really awesome hot sauce goes.

My secret hot sauce recipe- which I pretty much just made up on the spot- involved throwing a bunch of hot peppers in the Cuisinart thing and then adding a bunch of garlic and a few splashes of vinegar along the way. At some point during the secret hot sauce making process, I decided to take a quick bathroom break. This was my second mistake. I didn’t realize it at the time, but apparently I had hot sauce and/or hot pepper juice on my hands when I went into the bathroom and, well- let’s just say it- that stuff got all over my goods. They say when you’ve eaten something really spicy, the best way to stop the heat is to drink milk or eat ice cream. I’ve never heard what you’re supposed to do when you’ve gotten hot sauce all over your penis though, so I ended up just sort of sitting there fighting off tears for a few minutes until the extreme burning sensation went away.

Despite all of the above, the hot sauce itself ended up being pretty tasty. I still have to figure out something to add to it so it’s more saucy and congealed and stuff instead of just being a bunch of really tiny bits of hot pepper and garlic with some vinegar running through it, but it definitely serves its intended purpose. I fried up a few eggs and covered them with my new secret hot sauce and couldn’t help but think it definitely tasted like eggs with hot sauce on them. Things went south a few minutes after eating the eggs with hot sauce, however, when I began to experience an all too familiar rumbling in my southern hemisphere. I believe the correct medical terminology for this is “assplosion.” It’s been pretty touch and go for the last 18 hours or so, but I’m hoping things settle down by the weekend. I will definitely keep you posted. Until next time- see you at the laundromat!

Dave Hill

That whole making-my-own-hot-sauce thing from yesterday turned out to be a pretty rough situation from start to finish and is still threatening to complicate my day as I type this. Things got ugly early on when I started grinding up the peppers in the little Cuisinart thing I found tucked away in my kitchen closet. As it turns out, when you grind up really hot peppers and then take the lid off the grinding device right away, the effect is not unlike blasting yourself in the face with pepper spray. At least that’s how it happened with me anyway. Still, I figured if my hot sauce was making me cough/choke/gag just from smelling it, I was probably onto something as far as making really awesome hot sauce goes.

My secret hot sauce recipe- which I pretty much just made up on the spot- involved throwing a bunch of hot peppers in the Cuisinart thing and then adding a bunch of garlic and a few splashes of vinegar along the way. At some point during the secret hot sauce making process, I decided to take a quick bathroom break. This was my second mistake. I didn’t realize it at the time, but apparently I had hot sauce and/or hot pepper juice on my hands when I went into the bathroom and, well- let’s just say it- that stuff got all over my goods. They say when you’ve eaten something really spicy, the best way to stop the heat is to drink milk or eat ice cream. I’ve never heard what you’re supposed to do when you’ve gotten hot sauce all over your penis though, so I ended up just sort of sitting there fighting off tears for a few minutes until the extreme burning sensation went away.

Despite all of the above, the hot sauce itself ended up being pretty tasty. I still have to figure out something to add to it so it’s more saucy and congealed and stuff instead of just being a bunch of really tiny bits of hot pepper and garlic with some vinegar running through it, but it definitely serves its intended purpose. I fried up a few eggs and covered them with my new secret hot sauce and couldn’t help but think it definitely tasted like eggs with hot sauce on them. Things went south a few minutes after eating the eggs with hot sauce, however, when I began to experience an all too familiar rumbling in my southern hemisphere. I believe the correct medical terminology for this is “assplosion.” It’s been pretty touch and go for the last 18 hours or so, but I’m hoping things settle down by the weekend. I will definitely keep you posted. Until next time- see you at the laundromat!

Dave Hill

I’ve just returned from running a few exciting errands (laundromat, post office, bank, faxing place, etc.) around my scenic Brooklyn neighborhood. One of my stops was at the UPS store. The employees there don’t wear the awesome brown uniforms that the guys that drive the UPS trucks wear, but it’s still a pretty good store in terms of buying padded envelopes and stuff, which was what I was doing there today in case you really must know. A-hole (Oh, just kidding).

Anyway, while I was going about my business at the UPS store, the in-store sound system began letting loose with the familiar (to me anyway) strains of Andy Gibb’s “Shadow Dancing,” which immediately whisked me back to my early childhood, a time when I was a big fan of the younger, now-departed brother of the guys in the Bee Gees. Back then I owned two Andy Gibb solo albums, which naturally led most of the other boys on my block too assume that I was also a member of the Future Homosexuals of America Club. The fact that I wrote a letter to pop singer/TV star/Tiger Beat coverboy Shaun Cassidy around this time, a rough draft of which was unfortunately discovered and later paraded around the neighborhood by my “friend” Tommy for all my pick-up football buddies to see, didn’t seem to help matters.

As it turned out however, I wasn’t actually a homosexual-in-the-making (dude, you can totally ask, like, a million chicks about this), but a completely sad and shameless pop music fan in the making. Don’t get me wrong, I still totally rock and all that; it’s just that songs like OMC’s “How Bizarre” and White Town’s “Your Woman” still rank frighteningly high on my list of all-time favorite songs (Don’t worry, there’s plenty of Zeppelin and Husker Du and stuff on the list too, in case you are worried). I guess what I’m really trying to say is this: little kids can be total dicks sometimes, so watch your ass.

In other news, I’m currently neck and neck with my bank as to who has more pens with the bank’s logo on it in their possession. I won’t say the name of my bank as there is probably someone out there who can take that little bit of information and use it to rob me of the 17 or so bucks currently in my account. Giving a slight hint however, my bank calls itself “America’s Most Convenient Bank.” If by convenient they mean making sure I never have to buy another pen again, then- yes- they are definitely super convenient. Now if only they could hook me up with one of those happening navy blazers the employees there all get to wear.

Finally, I bought an assortment of hot peppers (habanero mostly) at the farmer’s market type thing they have in my neighborhood while I was out today. I’ve decided I want to whip up a batch of my own hot sauce, which- given the fact that I have been on television like a million times already- is probably something I should have taken care of a long time ago. I’m not planning on selling it or anything; it’s just gonna be for around the house and stuff. Imagine how much money I’ll save on hot sauce by making my own! It’s going to be pretty incredible. Anyway, my ass and I will let you know what happens on that front really, really soon.

Dave Hill

Okay, this entry has (almost) nothing to do with black metal. It’s just that, when in doubt, I prefer to post a sweet black metal photo at the beginning of an entry (This photo of the sweet band Immortal, who have sadly broken up for some reason or another. It seems to me like the crazy medieval weaponry would be enough of a reason to try to keep things together, but whatever, I guess sometimes you just have to call it a day no matter what kind of weapons you might have lying around). Anyway, in keeping with my neverending desire to rock you, rock you so much (and to also be shamelessly self-promotional pretty much whenever possible), I would like to encourage/beg you to check out another hit song from my unstoppable rock band Valley Lodge, which is pretty much the most incredible band I can possibly think of as I type this (besides Immortal that is). Anyway, the song is called “Every Little Thing” and you can stream/download-it-when-I’m-not-looking for a limited time only by going to this address: http://us.share.geocities.com/theblackmetaldialogues/Everylittlething.mp3 (I know it’s kind of retarded that I just don’t have it hyperlinked or whatever you call it when you just click on the link and it takes you there, but for some reason Geocities makes an error page show up when you do it that way. Or maybe I’m just retarded. Life is crazy sometimes). No pressure- I’m just, you know, putting it out there in case you feel like rocking or something. This particular song is really good to play at a reasonable volume or even really loud while driving, cleaning up around the house, and/or boning. You could probably do other stuff while listening to it too I would imagine. Hey- use your imagination! Anyway, I hope you dig it. And, of course, the offer still stands- if you are not completely satisfied with your Valley Lodge listening experience, you can totally hunt me down and kick me in the nuts. You have my word on it. Just promise me you’ll give me a heads up before the big wind up. And don’t blame me if you hurt your foot on my cold balls of steel.

Dave Hill

I’ve just returned from running a few exciting errands (laundromat, post office, bank, faxing place, etc.) around my scenic Brooklyn neighborhood. One of my stops was at the UPS store. The employees there don’t wear the awesome brown uniforms that the guys that drive the UPS trucks wear, but it’s still a pretty good store in terms of buying padded envelopes and stuff, which was what I was doing there today in case you really must know. A-hole (Oh, just kidding).

Anyway, while I was going about my business at the UPS store, the in-store sound system began letting loose with the familiar (to me anyway) strains of Andy Gibb’s “Shadow Dancing,” which immediately whisked me back to my early childhood, a time when I was a big fan of the younger, now-departed brother of the guys in the Bee Gees. Back then I owned two Andy Gibb solo albums, which naturally led most of the other boys on my block too assume that I was also a member of the Future Homosexuals of America Club. The fact that I wrote a letter to pop singer/TV star/Tiger Beat coverboy Shaun Cassidy around this time, a rough draft of which was unfortunately discovered and later paraded around the neighborhood by my “friend” Tommy for all my pick-up football buddies to see, didn’t seem to help matters.

As it turned out however, I wasn’t actually a homosexual-in-the-making (dude, you can totally ask, like, a million chicks about this), but a completely sad and shameless pop music fan in the making. Don’t get me wrong, I still totally rock and all that; it’s just that songs like OMC’s “How Bizarre” and White Town’s “Your Woman” still rank frighteningly high on my list of all-time favorite songs (Don’t worry, there’s plenty of Zeppelin and Husker Du and stuff on the list too, in case you are worried). I guess what I’m really trying to say is this: little kids can be total dicks sometimes, so watch your ass.

In other news, I’m currently neck and neck with my bank as to who has more pens with the bank’s logo on it in their possession. I won’t say the name of my bank as there is probably someone out there who can take that little bit of information and use it to rob me of the 17 or so bucks currently in my account. Giving a slight hint however, my bank calls itself “America’s Most Convenient Bank.” If by convenient they mean making sure I never have to buy another pen again, then- yes- they are definitely super convenient. Now if only they could hook me up with one of those happening navy blazers the employees there all get to wear.

Finally, I bought an assortment of hot peppers (habanero mostly) at the farmer’s market type thing they have in my neighborhood while I was out today. I’ve decided I want to whip up a batch of my own hot sauce, which- given the fact that I have been on television like a million times already- is probably something I should have taken care of a long time ago. I’m not planning on selling it or anything; it’s just gonna be for around the house and stuff. Imagine how much money I’ll save on hot sauce by making my own! It’s going to be pretty incredible. Anyway, my ass and I will let you know what happens on that front really, really soon.

Dave Hill

Okay, this entry has (almost) nothing to do with black metal. It’s just that, when in doubt, I prefer to post a sweet black metal photo at the beginning of an entry (This photo of the sweet band Immortal, who have sadly broken up for some reason or another. It seems to me like the crazy medieval weaponry would be enough of a reason to try to keep things together, but whatever, I guess sometimes you just have to call it a day no matter what kind of weapons you might have lying around). Anyway, in keeping with my neverending desire to rock you, rock you so much (and to also be shamelessly self-promotional pretty much whenever possible), I would like to encourage/beg you to check out another hit song from my unstoppable rock band Valley Lodge, which is pretty much the most incredible band I can possibly think of as I type this (besides Immortal that is). Anyway, the song is called “Every Little Thing” and you can stream/download-it-when-I’m-not-looking for a limited time only by going to this address: http://us.share.geocities.com/theblackmetaldialogues/Everylittlething.mp3 (I know it’s kind of retarded that I just don’t have it hyperlinked or whatever you call it when you just click on the link and it takes you there, but for some reason Geocities makes an error page show up when you do it that way. Or maybe I’m just retarded. Life is crazy sometimes). No pressure- I’m just, you know, putting it out there in case you feel like rocking or something. This particular song is really good to play at a reasonable volume or even really loud while driving, cleaning up around the house, and/or boning. You could probably do other stuff while listening to it too I would imagine. Hey- use your imagination! Anyway, I hope you dig it. And, of course, the offer still stands- if you are not completely satisfied with your Valley Lodge listening experience, you can totally hunt me down and kick me in the nuts. You have my word on it. Just promise me you’ll give me a heads up before the big wind up. And don’t blame me if you hurt your foot on my cold balls of steel.

Dave Hill

Somebody has made me believe in love again and their names are Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher! Guess who is totally not planning to kill themselves today anymore? Me! That’s who!

Um, okay, I’m really sorry. I guess I just wanted to get in on the action for a second.

Dave Hill

Somebody has made me believe in love again and their names are Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher! Guess who is totally not planning to kill themselves today anymore? Me! That’s who!

Um, okay, I’m really sorry. I guess I just wanted to get in on the action for a second.

Dave Hill