Budapest has always been interesting for us, and we have had a lot of weird experiences here, but loveable ones. "Welcome to Hungary" sure has a pleasant ring to us, or at least it is very tickling to lay those words on the tongue. And that's a mouthful for you.

The homeland of Elizabeth Bathory is drenched in sun, but the whole band is hiding inside. We play at Diesel tonight, a kind of one day-festival-thing. We play early, 20.30, to be precise, 'cause of a long way's travel for tomorrow's gig in Germany. It's a shame that we can't stay since we feel like showing off our sensual midnight party-skills here in Budapest. (FYI: Nightmare has dry-cleaned his stageclothes today so we recommend you to stay at his side of the stage, and stay away from the other dead boys.) We have hung out in the huge backstage all day, which is like an entire club/restaurant. We don't do too much of international interest. Nothing at all actually. As a matter of fact, just our weight is a burden for the world right now. Yet our right-now-extra-heavy soundguy Micke has never been happier since he gets fed to the ears by catering girls, it is to the extent that he can't walk. He likes that. Girls and food that is. And to not be able to walk. Plus he likes sound. Obviously.

Whip was happy to know that we play in Milan on Tuesday next week, which of course is the yearly fashion week. Deathstars love the fashion weeks in New York, Paris and Milan etcetera and we try our best to be there. We just missed the one in Copenhagen... Right now Whip is pulling some a-class fashion-strings to get good seats at the Tuesday shows for the whole band and is talking loudly how bad he things Rey Kawakubo's stuff was for Gucci, even though he is very thankful for Commes de Garcon of corpse, and consider himself to be "Hiroshima Chic". Cat is screaming how much he wants to study at some fashion school in Antwerpen and claims that Ann Demuelemeester and Martin Marguela has had bigger negative impact on today's deconstructed fashion than people actually think. Nightmare doesn't agree with Cat at all. Bone is irritated about the subject and is listening to the hungarian black metal-masters Tormentor, one of the best bands in the genre - ever. (Check them out! http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewProfile&friendID=205486121)

Nightmare has been very strange the last days. Sometimes he stops the bus at the dead of night and says to the driver that he can navigate by the stars, and that the GPS is wrong. Nightmare actually thinks he is the new Global Positioning System, and you know what - the other guys in the band know he's right. This makes the tourmanager and busdriver insane, but this band rely on their feelings, that's why they're always wrong. Anyway, we have a huge bed in the corner of the backstage which fits for 6-8 people. This is of course something that we are going to use to make our loins extra happy...

What the members are doing:
* Bone is watching testmovies for Volvo S60 r awd on youtube.
* Cat is writing a lot of autographs and saying that he is a Ashera-cat today.
* Skinny is watching the exclusive pornmovie Pirates with Robin from Sonic Syndicate.
* Nightmare is ordering in cocktail after cocktail in the backstage bar and trying to find the Buddha in Budapest.
* Whip is worshipping Victoria Beckham. Within the band he calls himself Whip Beckham.

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