I wonder how my Yomi is...

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By: Tribehotties.tribe.net

The first time I met Yoms, we didn't actually meet. I sort of tripped over him as he sat passed out under the Motel666 shade structure, a huge bottle of Jack clutched in a death grip. Since then he's impressed me countless times with his amazing swiss army knife-like collection of skills ranging from cooking to spinning the sweeeeetest tracks. He is not truly as mad as you might think, but then again maybe it's just an act. When Yoms is in the house, it's guaranteed good times. His only fault that I can identify is that he lives an ocean away.

If you go to Burning Man, at some point during the week, you want to sidle up to Yoms and find out what he's cooking that evening. Sure JC could feed the masses on fishes and loaves. But this Badass Santa does a paella in the desert that you would sell your soul for.

A capital fellow. Yomi has restored my faith in the British media, and media in general. Despite this, there is no middle ground where Yoms is concerned - if you're in for a penny, you're in for a pound with him. The beauty of this is it is good for the soul to take a stand - and Yomi is the kind of man you can proudly stand with as you gleefully kick against the pricks and the pudenda of the post-Thatcherite yarblockos.