Peak coke-bloat Ozzy has always given me body horror so I steered clear of this whole section of his career, even though I love Sabbath. But this record, released as a tribute to guitarist Randy Rhoads after he died in this insane prank accident where his plane crashed into Ozzyâs tour bus, absolutely fucking rules. Peak metal. Raw power.
Beautiful pedal steel and itâs oh so sad. A nice reminder that you can record one album of mediocre success and die and then 50 years later some random fuckhead can find it and reintroduce it to the snobs of the modern era
Whenever I see the posts like âhey old people, give your best piece of adviceâ and people are giving like, financial advice and cleaning advice and relationship advice and then I come stomping in yelling, âDRESS SLUTTIER, YA GONNA REGRET NOT DRESSING SLUTTIERâ Yeah, thatâs my advice. I dressed pretty slutty, but man I wish I had dressed sluttier. More strings and cloth scraps called shirts, more skirts that showed my butty cheekies, more TIGHT FUCKING DRESSES, thatâs what I wish I had done. Wish Iâd worn my tight red pleather pants more often instead of chickening out. Wish I had worn just ONE string bikini in my early twenties. Just one. Live ur life, but thatâs what I wish I was about. Baddie dreams on a cowardâs budget.
Sometimes I forget I can literally just add anything I want to my ramen noodles. Today I added peanut butter and fresh garlic. Yesterday I added chunks of brie cheese. Some people add egg, not my favorite but many love it. Some green onions and a squirt of hoisin, yum. Like, you can add anything you want. a little ranch dressing, sure! Literally any cheese, oh yes. You can sweeten it up with some honey and fried onions. Dice up a tomato and mix it in, or even just some tomato sauce. Treat yourself today, and donât let your imagination hold you back.
