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Twenty Six hours until I see Turbonegro. I am nigh on shitting myself in antici-
say it!
Say It!
SAY IT!
-pation. And I realized earlier today that, through the radio station, I should have gotten set up to interview them. I don’t think I could make it through twenty minutes with Happy Tom or Euroboy without offering them some
Good.
Good!
Good.
Good!
Good.
Good!
Good Good Good Good Head!
But regardless, I think I could make a good interview of them… I’m sure it’s too late to try and set that up, though…

Jesus, in twenty six hours (plus opening band) I’m going to be watching pretty much the only reason I made it through the last three years.

FUCK!!!

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