test test. Can you hear me now? Goooood.
You know the one. You’re completely naked save for a fine sheen of sweat and a battered pair of Tony Lama roper’s boots. You’re in a shaky, arthritic sort of three-point stance over a miniature traffic cone, fingers two knuckles deep in avocado-green shag carpet. From somewhere in the nebulous distance, Mark Lanegan sings The […]