It is taking every waking muscle in my capabilities not to just let fly with a colossal bell-ringing pigeon-scattering outburst of the F word.
I am going to try.
So I go to my bank, to withdraw money so that's I can send off the money order for the Fantastic 4 poster. I'm going to put it caddy-corner to the Sin City poster, claim the corner in the name of Jessica. When I can't get the money, I go inside.
Inside it says some Travel something or other has taken my money, about $100 of it. So between the pittiance I had in the main account and the overdraft charge I'm now in the hole about $70.
This is Not Good.
So I call the number the teller gives me and find out it's the people who jumped on me when I bought the now-in-retrospect-due-to-Street-Scene completely unnecessary Snoop tickets. They offered a trial membership (which I took) and then a year membership (which, in May I sent e-mails to break off) for...you guessed it, $100.
So I call them up and read them the Riot Act and their Swear to their God my refund is coming in the next couple of business days.
That isn't going to work for me on a holiday weekend. On THE holiday weekend of the summer.
So instead of...pfft...having a life, I think I'm going to be stuck inside on Saturday barring some Miracle on 34th Street, working Sunday and ID4. So hitting the club with Rebecca, or taking the crushes on dates, or poker, or, y'know, living is all right out the door right now.
And of course the irony is, had I not decided to throw the biggest bomb of the summer last weekend, I'd have another $70-$80 in my pocket...
Life sure is beautiful, innit?
Current music: "Away" by Mercy Drive
6/30/05
6/26/05
Waiting For Charlie Murphy
I think disgust is too far an extreme of a word, given what happened.
But the term "extreme disappointment"? Well, I'll wave that around like a Hanzo sword against O-Ren.
The invites left here fine, but something must've happened when they hit the transmitter. Five people showed up, two of whom Aaron & I hadn't seen in years. (A special nod, bow, and pelvic thrust must be given to Diane at this point, who biked in). FIVE out of, I'd be fair in guessing, 30. I realize people have lives and daughters and jobs, and these things must be accounted for. But only one person gave advance notice on dodging out, one dropped 24 hours before, and another while it was happening. I'm not giving away anthrax, I'm throwing a party! I buy food, and some drink, and bring some tunes. You show up, you sing the songs, you eat the food, you drink the drink, and that's the end of it. You're not marrying me, you're not sleeping with me (though varying on who you are that option may make itself available ANYfuckingway), and I'm not asking you to find a low-carb cure for cancer.
JUST SHOW UP.
It's just unbelivably frustrating to go through all the effort of setting things up and clearing off a day to do this, and then to just be met with a tidal wave of near-complete apathy. And I take back the opening sentence, I am a little disgusted. People need to keep this sort of thing in mind when I don't return their DVDs promptly or borrow money or admit to dreaming about fingerfucking their sisters in the future. I'm sitting here with extra pounds of carne, full soda and beer cans alongside the mild stench of bile at the back of my throat; the crowning moment of the day was almost watching the Scrubs DVD.
It's hard not to just throw my hands up, say "Why bother?" and not do it anymore. But I think we all know someday, even if I went away, I'd just probably come back.
Tempting as it is at this moment to just explode the contacts side of the cell and start over fresh, I've decided to hold off.
Forgivenes is hard.
Forgetting's a near-impossibility.
You're so vain...you probably think this post is about you...
Current music: "Let Me Go" by 3 Doors Down
But the term "extreme disappointment"? Well, I'll wave that around like a Hanzo sword against O-Ren.
The invites left here fine, but something must've happened when they hit the transmitter. Five people showed up, two of whom Aaron & I hadn't seen in years. (A special nod, bow, and pelvic thrust must be given to Diane at this point, who biked in). FIVE out of, I'd be fair in guessing, 30. I realize people have lives and daughters and jobs, and these things must be accounted for. But only one person gave advance notice on dodging out, one dropped 24 hours before, and another while it was happening. I'm not giving away anthrax, I'm throwing a party! I buy food, and some drink, and bring some tunes. You show up, you sing the songs, you eat the food, you drink the drink, and that's the end of it. You're not marrying me, you're not sleeping with me (though varying on who you are that option may make itself available ANYfuckingway), and I'm not asking you to find a low-carb cure for cancer.
JUST SHOW UP.
It's just unbelivably frustrating to go through all the effort of setting things up and clearing off a day to do this, and then to just be met with a tidal wave of near-complete apathy. And I take back the opening sentence, I am a little disgusted. People need to keep this sort of thing in mind when I don't return their DVDs promptly or borrow money or admit to dreaming about fingerfucking their sisters in the future. I'm sitting here with extra pounds of carne, full soda and beer cans alongside the mild stench of bile at the back of my throat; the crowning moment of the day was almost watching the Scrubs DVD.
It's hard not to just throw my hands up, say "Why bother?" and not do it anymore. But I think we all know someday, even if I went away, I'd just probably come back.
Tempting as it is at this moment to just explode the contacts side of the cell and start over fresh, I've decided to hold off.
Forgivenes is hard.
Forgetting's a near-impossibility.
You're so vain...you probably think this post is about you...
Current music: "Let Me Go" by 3 Doors Down
6/25/05
KWBR: The Playlist
BOYS DON'T CRY:
"Toma" (9)
"Drop It Like It's Hot (remix)" (11)
"Lose Control" (12)
"Like That" (14)
"Smile Like You Mean It" (15)
15) Weezer, "Beverly Hills" (13)
14) Audioslave, "Be Yourself" (2)
13) Gorillaz, "Feel Good Inc." (debut)
12) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The World" (debut)
11) System Of A Down, "BYOB" (debut)
10) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (debut)
09) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (6)
08) Ciara feat. Ludacris, "Oh" (10)
07) Coldplay, "Speed Of Sound" (8)*
06) 50 Cent, "Just A Lil' Bit" (7)*
05) Foo Fighters, "Best Of You" (debut)
04) the White Stripes, "Blue Orchid" (5)*
03) Mariah Carey feat. the Lox, "We Belong Together (remix)" (4)*
02) Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl" (3)*
01) Ying Yang Twins, "Wait" (1) [1m]
Current music: "The Good Life" by Weezer
"Toma" (9)
"Drop It Like It's Hot (remix)" (11)
"Lose Control" (12)
"Like That" (14)
"Smile Like You Mean It" (15)
15) Weezer, "Beverly Hills" (13)
14) Audioslave, "Be Yourself" (2)
13) Gorillaz, "Feel Good Inc." (debut)
12) Ludacris feat. Bobby Valentino, "Pimpin' All Over The World" (debut)
11) System Of A Down, "BYOB" (debut)
10) Jimmy Eat World, "Futures" (debut)
09) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (6)
08) Ciara feat. Ludacris, "Oh" (10)
07) Coldplay, "Speed Of Sound" (8)*
06) 50 Cent, "Just A Lil' Bit" (7)*
05) Foo Fighters, "Best Of You" (debut)
04) the White Stripes, "Blue Orchid" (5)*
03) Mariah Carey feat. the Lox, "We Belong Together (remix)" (4)*
02) Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl" (3)*
01) Ying Yang Twins, "Wait" (1) [1m]
Current music: "The Good Life" by Weezer
6/24/05
Oh, Yeah, Throw Your Love And Hate In The Air Like You Don't Care
LOVE: The 1st Annual Rick James Memorial Summer Jam is less than 24 hours away, and I'm fucking stoked. Outside of Amanda & Nate (damn Berkeley people, breaking my heart...) I am of the belief 90% of my friends are in. You couple it in with Aaron's friends--especially the hot ones--a bunch of carne asada y pollo, and this is going to be a parTAY of epic proportion.
And yes, I'll take pictures and throw 'em up so y'all see how a brother livin'.
LOVE: Just in time for the 1ARJMSJ, the June Gloom has finally died off--mid 70's, cloud-dotted sunny weather. This is why we suffer through extravagantly high prices and we're finally gettting a return on the investment. Plus, I need to work on my tan.
LOVE: Fuck that bar with peanuts, it's PayDay! Paid off the bills, about to pay off the rent, and still got enough to live the kind of life I like to live. Good times, good times.
LOVE: Went to Fumari last night and dropped a new top 5 on her: uses of real music in the movies. My list? Billie Holliday's "As Time Goes By", Casablanca; Steppenwolf's "Born To Be Wild", Easy Rider; the Beatles' "Twist & Shout", Ferris Bueller's Day Off; and the co-#1s: Otis Redding's "Shout" as covered by Otis "My Man" Day & the Knights, Animal House; and, of fucking course, Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes", Say Anything.
I mean, I had to bump the piano solo from "Layla" in Goodfellas and "Stuck In The Middle With You" from Reservoir Dogs, to say nothing of the pain brought on from not having "Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta" in Office Space, but fuck it--I'll put that top 5 against ANYBODY'S.
LOVE: Liz agreeing with me with the #1s, and not laughing when I admitted to her I cried at the end of Say Anything. I'm secure enough in my masculinity to say that. And if it didn't at least occur to you, get the hell off my friend list. She's also a Cusack fan, which is why I think she appreciates the High Fidelity game.
LOVE: When Ivan & I went to place our order last night, Liz was wearing a low-cut tank top and we both had a psychic moment where we thought of the exact same line from the "Mad Real World" sketch. I said, "We're thinking the exact same thing and we don't even need to say what it is, aren't we?" He said "Yeah" and we both cracked up. That's got beer commercial written all over it.
LOVE: So, picked up the new Rolling Stone.
HATE: I should've picked up two copies.
I'm KIDDING!
...or am I?!
LOVE: I'm the Hurricane's friend on MySpace. Hurricane's on RAW, so if anybody would have Trish's cell number or know somebody who would...
LOVE: The InsomNBA Finals are finally over. I'm sorry, a good game 5 and a good game 7 (and hey, if you can't show up for a GAME FUCKING 7, go play in traffic) don't make this a classic series. The old Bulls, Lakers, and he admits choking back the bile at the back of his throat 60s and 80s Celtics would kill the Spurs. Even with sneaking looks at Eva Longoria.
HATE: My stupid itching beard.
LOVE: I'm dropping it tomorrow to look more Rick-like. Rickian? Rickesque?
I cannot think of anything else that is either relevant or true...
Current music: "Let Me Ride" by Dr. Dre
And yes, I'll take pictures and throw 'em up so y'all see how a brother livin'.
LOVE: Just in time for the 1ARJMSJ, the June Gloom has finally died off--mid 70's, cloud-dotted sunny weather. This is why we suffer through extravagantly high prices and we're finally gettting a return on the investment. Plus, I need to work on my tan.
LOVE: Fuck that bar with peanuts, it's PayDay! Paid off the bills, about to pay off the rent, and still got enough to live the kind of life I like to live. Good times, good times.
LOVE: Went to Fumari last night and dropped a new top 5 on her: uses of real music in the movies. My list? Billie Holliday's "As Time Goes By", Casablanca; Steppenwolf's "Born To Be Wild", Easy Rider; the Beatles' "Twist & Shout", Ferris Bueller's Day Off; and the co-#1s: Otis Redding's "Shout" as covered by Otis "My Man" Day & the Knights, Animal House; and, of fucking course, Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes", Say Anything.
I mean, I had to bump the piano solo from "Layla" in Goodfellas and "Stuck In The Middle With You" from Reservoir Dogs, to say nothing of the pain brought on from not having "Damn It Feels Good To Be A Gangsta" in Office Space, but fuck it--I'll put that top 5 against ANYBODY'S.
LOVE: Liz agreeing with me with the #1s, and not laughing when I admitted to her I cried at the end of Say Anything. I'm secure enough in my masculinity to say that. And if it didn't at least occur to you, get the hell off my friend list. She's also a Cusack fan, which is why I think she appreciates the High Fidelity game.
LOVE: When Ivan & I went to place our order last night, Liz was wearing a low-cut tank top and we both had a psychic moment where we thought of the exact same line from the "Mad Real World" sketch. I said, "We're thinking the exact same thing and we don't even need to say what it is, aren't we?" He said "Yeah" and we both cracked up. That's got beer commercial written all over it.
LOVE: So, picked up the new Rolling Stone.
HATE: I should've picked up two copies.
I'm KIDDING!
...or am I?!
LOVE: I'm the Hurricane's friend on MySpace. Hurricane's on RAW, so if anybody would have Trish's cell number or know somebody who would...
LOVE: The InsomNBA Finals are finally over. I'm sorry, a good game 5 and a good game 7 (and hey, if you can't show up for a GAME FUCKING 7, go play in traffic) don't make this a classic series. The old Bulls, Lakers, and he admits choking back the bile at the back of his throat 60s and 80s Celtics would kill the Spurs. Even with sneaking looks at Eva Longoria.
HATE: My stupid itching beard.
LOVE: I'm dropping it tomorrow to look more Rick-like. Rickian? Rickesque?
I cannot think of anything else that is either relevant or true...
Current music: "Let Me Ride" by Dr. Dre
6/19/05
A Surefire Way To Spice Up Work
Go to a birthday party where you don't even know anybody, drink 10 beers, mingle with everybody, dance with hot girls and throw your shoulder out of whack (probably as a result of the breakdancing).
The recuperative powers of Sunny D best start kicking in right quick or today's gonna be trouble.
Current music: "Gimme Shelter" by the Stones
The recuperative powers of Sunny D best start kicking in right quick or today's gonna be trouble.
Current music: "Gimme Shelter" by the Stones
6/17/05
What's Hate And Love Got To Do With It?
HATE: They brought down the Babe Index! Just when I was getting off the anal-retentive habit of making full lists, listing last month's rankings and peak positions. Figures.
HATE: This is the last day of my weekend. Five days after this. Is there anyway I can get money for sitting on my ass besides joining Congress?
LOVE: Swingers, even if I still can't watch the Most Awkward Scene In Movie History. The physical representation of your friend telling a joke about you that cuts way deeper than it appears but you don't want to bring any attention to yourself so you give one of those "ha HA" laughs while inside it feels like you just got punched in the chest by a Buick.
LOVE: Sunny Delight, version 1.
LOVE: My friend Amanda back in town for the weekends; I still owe her a Saturday night of wilding out.
LOVE: The thing about having weekdays off is you never know what's going to pop up on the tele. I mean, you'd think a weekday afternoon would be a dead zone without PTI, but right now I'm half-watching some idiot blowing it on Blind Date, There's Something About Mary's on FX (even though I own it, it's still great), they rerun Ed on TBS--which I hadn't been aware of until a week ago--and Celebrity Poker Showdown is going to be on in the bottom of the hour. I know I'm supposed to go buy the Father's Day present at some point today, but there are just too many options!
LOVE: The Rick James Memorial Summer Jam is coming along nicely, with friends in and more hot girls than guys. Everyone who wants to know the real secret to throwing a good party: get hot girls to show up. Hot girls travel in packs. Hot girls attract guys. And there you go.
HATE: Everybody jumping on the Jessica Alba bandwagon. Where is my credit? Where is my dap? The first local man to bring a pimp cup to the clubs, a Rick James wig, a World Championship belt, the man who in 2002 said Reese's needed to make a big-ass peanut butter cup, and do I even get a sniff of credit for innovation? Of course not.
HATE: The friend coming of Aaron's who asked "Who is Rick James?" She better be, like, MERILYNN hot to get away with that.
LOVE: Party tomorrow! Do I know anybody besides Aaron? Does it matter?
LOVE: Hilary Duff expanding her acting portfolio to science fiction; apparently she's in some sort of bizarro world that looks like ours in this one except Heather freaking Locklear can't get a date. I'd like to visit that place, I think I could be president.
HATE: With the door slam, my brother is officially on summer vacation. He wakes me up early once, I shall kill him.
Current music: "It's Only Rock n' Roll" by the Stones
HATE: This is the last day of my weekend. Five days after this. Is there anyway I can get money for sitting on my ass besides joining Congress?
LOVE: Swingers, even if I still can't watch the Most Awkward Scene In Movie History. The physical representation of your friend telling a joke about you that cuts way deeper than it appears but you don't want to bring any attention to yourself so you give one of those "ha HA" laughs while inside it feels like you just got punched in the chest by a Buick.
LOVE: Sunny Delight, version 1.
LOVE: My friend Amanda back in town for the weekends; I still owe her a Saturday night of wilding out.
LOVE: The thing about having weekdays off is you never know what's going to pop up on the tele. I mean, you'd think a weekday afternoon would be a dead zone without PTI, but right now I'm half-watching some idiot blowing it on Blind Date, There's Something About Mary's on FX (even though I own it, it's still great), they rerun Ed on TBS--which I hadn't been aware of until a week ago--and Celebrity Poker Showdown is going to be on in the bottom of the hour. I know I'm supposed to go buy the Father's Day present at some point today, but there are just too many options!
LOVE: The Rick James Memorial Summer Jam is coming along nicely, with friends in and more hot girls than guys. Everyone who wants to know the real secret to throwing a good party: get hot girls to show up. Hot girls travel in packs. Hot girls attract guys. And there you go.
HATE: Everybody jumping on the Jessica Alba bandwagon. Where is my credit? Where is my dap? The first local man to bring a pimp cup to the clubs, a Rick James wig, a World Championship belt, the man who in 2002 said Reese's needed to make a big-ass peanut butter cup, and do I even get a sniff of credit for innovation? Of course not.
HATE: The friend coming of Aaron's who asked "Who is Rick James?" She better be, like, MERILYNN hot to get away with that.
LOVE: Party tomorrow! Do I know anybody besides Aaron? Does it matter?
LOVE: Hilary Duff expanding her acting portfolio to science fiction; apparently she's in some sort of bizarro world that looks like ours in this one except Heather freaking Locklear can't get a date. I'd like to visit that place, I think I could be president.
HATE: With the door slam, my brother is officially on summer vacation. He wakes me up early once, I shall kill him.
Current music: "It's Only Rock n' Roll" by the Stones
6/16/05
And Now To Totally Surprise Regular Visitors, A Post Glorifying Jessica Alba
I'm just saying. There is quality, and there is Quality, and then there is what Jessica has been doing for the past...let's hedge our bets and call it nine months.
1) Maxim shoot. Soooo hot, even hotter than the first.
2) Parties with Eva Longoria for New Year's Eve in South Beach.
3) That same week, candid shots of her go out at the beach with her wearing a white bikini and her ass pointing square at the camera as some sort of siren song of all that is good and holy with the world.
4) Sin City.
5) the GQ shoot.
6) Sin City.
7) the GQ shoot, because, in both cases, seriously though.
8) the see-through shirt for the MTV Movie Awards. To quote a wise man NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA
9) "But the thrill we've never known/Is the thrill that gets ya/When you get your picture/On the cover of a Rolling Stone ROLLING STONE..."
It should be noted based on advanced reports the first paragraph of the article (that needs words?!) is entirely based on how sweet her ass is.
Is this her year or what? Just remember six years ago who began building the bandwagon with his bare hands, baby. Just remember.
Ambient music: Young Buck feat. 50 Cent - Let Me In
1) Maxim shoot. Soooo hot, even hotter than the first.
2) Parties with Eva Longoria for New Year's Eve in South Beach.
3) That same week, candid shots of her go out at the beach with her wearing a white bikini and her ass pointing square at the camera as some sort of siren song of all that is good and holy with the world.
4) Sin City.
5) the GQ shoot.
6) Sin City.
7) the GQ shoot, because, in both cases, seriously though.
8) the see-through shirt for the MTV Movie Awards. To quote a wise man NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA NIPPOLA
9) "But the thrill we've never known/Is the thrill that gets ya/When you get your picture/On the cover of a Rolling Stone ROLLING STONE..."
It should be noted based on advanced reports the first paragraph of the article (that needs words?!) is entirely based on how sweet her ass is.
Is this her year or what? Just remember six years ago who began building the bandwagon with his bare hands, baby. Just remember.
Ambient music: Young Buck feat. 50 Cent - Let Me In
6/12/05
Five Easy Pieces
ONE: She looked really cute in a way that elevated her to hot.
I had on a good pair of jeans but a polo shirt, too. For a guy on an early date, especially the first one, there's always the problem of looking like you care but not appearing to be desperate. So it's about 10 minutes away, and she's wearing a blue sundress with what're-they-called...pointsettias! and a little white sweater over the top. The nerves begin to kick in with some amplifiers now.
TWO: She's courageous. At least with food choices.
She got a pasta dish with pieces of fried calamari in it! I was blown away, as I fear certain seafood objects and that's one of them. Not only that, she offered me some of it, leading to the following exchange.
"No way, I'm not touching that."
"Why, you scared?"
"Yeah, I'm scared. That's how they get you, and then you lean in to eat, (miming a strangulation)"
"But it's fried!"
"Oh, that's what they'll tell you..."
THREE: She kept up in conversation with me, even when we disagreed.
But I'm totally right about this : all Molly Ringwald had to do was pick Duckie in Pretty In Pink and she'd be polishing Oscars right now. It was a lot about our lives, some music (mostly hip-hop), some religion, and in my favorite portion of the evening chat-wise, how Sophia was stupid, evil, crazy, and a man-hating dyke. Well, maybe not all of that, but even so it was pretty cathartic. So if I lose her it won't be over that.
FOUR: She is an appreciator of fine taste.
After originally wondering why we had to get to the restaurant when it opened up, her reaction to her plate after the first forkful in the packed house? "You seem like a nice guy and everything, but I'm leaving you for linguini and dead squid." Plus, she's into me, so there you go.
FIVE: She might not know if you kiss someone within an hour of eating said dish, you will still taste a little bit like the dish.
At least I know now.
I really like Rebecca. I mean, before, I just wanted to get with her, but now...well, we'll have to see.
But if I hads my druthers...
Current music: "Army" by Ben Folds Five
I had on a good pair of jeans but a polo shirt, too. For a guy on an early date, especially the first one, there's always the problem of looking like you care but not appearing to be desperate. So it's about 10 minutes away, and she's wearing a blue sundress with what're-they-called...pointsettias! and a little white sweater over the top. The nerves begin to kick in with some amplifiers now.
TWO: She's courageous. At least with food choices.
She got a pasta dish with pieces of fried calamari in it! I was blown away, as I fear certain seafood objects and that's one of them. Not only that, she offered me some of it, leading to the following exchange.
"No way, I'm not touching that."
"Why, you scared?"
"Yeah, I'm scared. That's how they get you, and then you lean in to eat, (miming a strangulation)"
"But it's fried!"
"Oh, that's what they'll tell you..."
THREE: She kept up in conversation with me, even when we disagreed.
But I'm totally right about this : all Molly Ringwald had to do was pick Duckie in Pretty In Pink and she'd be polishing Oscars right now. It was a lot about our lives, some music (mostly hip-hop), some religion, and in my favorite portion of the evening chat-wise, how Sophia was stupid, evil, crazy, and a man-hating dyke. Well, maybe not all of that, but even so it was pretty cathartic. So if I lose her it won't be over that.
FOUR: She is an appreciator of fine taste.
After originally wondering why we had to get to the restaurant when it opened up, her reaction to her plate after the first forkful in the packed house? "You seem like a nice guy and everything, but I'm leaving you for linguini and dead squid." Plus, she's into me, so there you go.
FIVE: She might not know if you kiss someone within an hour of eating said dish, you will still taste a little bit like the dish.
At least I know now.
I really like Rebecca. I mean, before, I just wanted to get with her, but now...well, we'll have to see.
But if I hads my druthers...
Current music: "Army" by Ben Folds Five
A DJ Plays "Just A Friend", Just A Friend Rises From The Grave, And Grave Misgivings Come True (Welcome to My Saturday)
I say yesterday if I show up dressed for the club they'll let me go early. If I don't I can assume they'll make me work my whole shift.
And for day one of my "third year", I got off two hours early for the first time. Instead of hopping across the street and joining things in media res I was doomed horribly. OK, not true, but it was a slight pain in the ass.
The oddness was only beginning.
I meant to get something substantial in my system but ended up reading a book about Coldplay at Borders. Then at the club I felt odd macking girls considering I am now under 12 hours away from my date with Rebecca. Got loose, went to Fumari. Liz, bless her, picked up the top 5 conversation right where we left off after I begged forgiveness and to replace P-Funk with Nirvana.
So just when I think the apex of oddity is reached, a group of three girls sidles in next to me, two of whom I haven't seen before and one of whom I haven't seen in months--Mary, who with glasses and darker, longer hair looks different than she was in an oddly fetching sort of Norah Jonesy way.
Talked to her, and now things are written are my arm, one of which is a message to the date and the one of which I can read is FUCKING REMEMBER THIS MARY WAS HERE.
The sobriety being an issue, and all.
Gotta get together with her; maybe invite her to the RJ Memorial Summer Jam. At least the next bowling get together.
Hey, seeing as I want to be moving in 10 hours towards Rebecca, maybe I want to use that vast interval of time for SLEEP, hm?!
Current music: "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen
And for day one of my "third year", I got off two hours early for the first time. Instead of hopping across the street and joining things in media res I was doomed horribly. OK, not true, but it was a slight pain in the ass.
The oddness was only beginning.
I meant to get something substantial in my system but ended up reading a book about Coldplay at Borders. Then at the club I felt odd macking girls considering I am now under 12 hours away from my date with Rebecca. Got loose, went to Fumari. Liz, bless her, picked up the top 5 conversation right where we left off after I begged forgiveness and to replace P-Funk with Nirvana.
So just when I think the apex of oddity is reached, a group of three girls sidles in next to me, two of whom I haven't seen before and one of whom I haven't seen in months--Mary, who with glasses and darker, longer hair looks different than she was in an oddly fetching sort of Norah Jonesy way.
Talked to her, and now things are written are my arm, one of which is a message to the date and the one of which I can read is FUCKING REMEMBER THIS MARY WAS HERE.
The sobriety being an issue, and all.
Gotta get together with her; maybe invite her to the RJ Memorial Summer Jam. At least the next bowling get together.
Hey, seeing as I want to be moving in 10 hours towards Rebecca, maybe I want to use that vast interval of time for SLEEP, hm?!
Current music: "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen
6/11/05
KWBR: The Playlist
PLUG AND PLAY:
"Touch" by Amerie
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Paul Anka
"Fix You" by Coldplay
"Go" by Common
"Futures" by Jimmy Eat World
WALK IDIOT WALK:
"1 Thing" (6)
"Hate It Or Love It" (10)
"The Corner" (12)
"You Don't Know Me" (14)
15) the Killers, "Smile Like You Mean It" (debut)
14) Memphis Bleek feat. Swizz Beats, "Like That" (15)*
13) Weezer, "Beverly Hills" (9)
12) Missy Elliott feat. Ciara, "Lose Control" (13)*
11) Snoop Dogg, Pharrell, and Jay-Z, "Drop It Like It's Hot (remix)" (debut)
10) Ciara feat. Ludacris, "Oh" (7)
09) Pitbull feat. Lil' Jon, "Toma" (11)
08) Coldplay, "Speed Of Sound" (debut)
07) 50 Cent, "Just A Lil Bit" (8)*
06) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (4)
05) the White Stripes, "Blue Orchid" (5)*
04) Mariah Carey feat. the Lox, "We Belong Together (remix)" (debut)
03) Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl" (3)*
02) Audioslave, "Be Yourself" (1)
01) Ying Yang Twins, "Wait" (2)
Current music: "Whatever" by Our Lady Peace
"Touch" by Amerie
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Paul Anka
"Fix You" by Coldplay
"Go" by Common
"Futures" by Jimmy Eat World
WALK IDIOT WALK:
"1 Thing" (6)
"Hate It Or Love It" (10)
"The Corner" (12)
"You Don't Know Me" (14)
15) the Killers, "Smile Like You Mean It" (debut)
14) Memphis Bleek feat. Swizz Beats, "Like That" (15)*
13) Weezer, "Beverly Hills" (9)
12) Missy Elliott feat. Ciara, "Lose Control" (13)*
11) Snoop Dogg, Pharrell, and Jay-Z, "Drop It Like It's Hot (remix)" (debut)
10) Ciara feat. Ludacris, "Oh" (7)
09) Pitbull feat. Lil' Jon, "Toma" (11)
08) Coldplay, "Speed Of Sound" (debut)
07) 50 Cent, "Just A Lil Bit" (8)*
06) 50 Cent, "Disco Inferno" (4)
05) the White Stripes, "Blue Orchid" (5)*
04) Mariah Carey feat. the Lox, "We Belong Together (remix)" (debut)
03) Gwen Stefani, "Hollaback Girl" (3)*
02) Audioslave, "Be Yourself" (1)
01) Ying Yang Twins, "Wait" (2)
Current music: "Whatever" by Our Lady Peace
6/10/05
Hate It Or Love It, This Friday Post Is On Top (as of this writing)
HATE: Adult responsibility. Back when I was 6, if I'd gotten 3g I would've thought I was a millionaire. At 16, I knew I could've had a fun night with my people. Now I see it and I start deducing cell bills and rent and checking charges and blah.
LOVE: Even with adult responsibility, there's still enough cash for me to be irresponsible with.
LOVE: That evil bastard Monty Burns got something right: there really is nothing like a good sit.
LOVE: Keeping the creditors from taking my pissant shit.
HATE: One of my bosses' hair-trigger temper has actually gotten worse. I don't know if it's really the slight violations I'm sort of doing or the rumor her twice her age boyfriend bounced her, but the "I'm paying you no attention and just nodding my head to mask my contempt for you" thing doesn't seem to be getting the point across.
LOVE: Picking up X&Y.
LOVE: "Fix You", which may be the best thing Coldplay's ever done. No, I didn't forget "Trouble", "Amsterdam", or "The Scientist".
HATE: They lead off with "Speed Of Sound", which is a fine enough song and all, but I am just utterly filled with resentment that "Fix You" didn't kick everybody's ass right out the starting gate. Why? WHY!?
HATE: Corrupted downloads of "Feel Good Inc." and Common's "Go".
LOVE: Paul Anka's covers, even if the whole CD was too expensive.
LOVE: The Swingers DVD, if only to fast forward through The Most Awkward Scene In Movie History. (That's not only, I got it for $7.50. But even so.)
LOVE: The first date Sunday.
HATE: The first date Sunday.
HATE: The voice who reminded me right before I went to sleep last night regarding the top 5 convo with Liz that I had omitted Run-DMC.
LOVE: What will be, once the appropriate measure of fame and looks is met at the Con, the best Answering Machine Message of All-Time: Hi, I'm ________. You may recognize me from (x), (y), and (z). Listen, if you called --my number-- hoping to talk to Butch, bad news. He's tied up at the moment. Well, that's not entirely true--it's more like he's cuffed up and not going anywhere until I'm done having my way with him. Ain't that right, baby? Anyway, I promise if you do the usual, once he gets his strength back he'll call you. Okay? Okay. Now...where'd I put that banana..."
LOVE: This post reminding me to kick off some invites for the the Summer Jam in a fortnight.
Ambient music: "It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) (unplugged) " by R.E.M.
LOVE: Even with adult responsibility, there's still enough cash for me to be irresponsible with.
LOVE: That evil bastard Monty Burns got something right: there really is nothing like a good sit.
LOVE: Keeping the creditors from taking my pissant shit.
HATE: One of my bosses' hair-trigger temper has actually gotten worse. I don't know if it's really the slight violations I'm sort of doing or the rumor her twice her age boyfriend bounced her, but the "I'm paying you no attention and just nodding my head to mask my contempt for you" thing doesn't seem to be getting the point across.
LOVE: Picking up X&Y.
LOVE: "Fix You", which may be the best thing Coldplay's ever done. No, I didn't forget "Trouble", "Amsterdam", or "The Scientist".
HATE: They lead off with "Speed Of Sound", which is a fine enough song and all, but I am just utterly filled with resentment that "Fix You" didn't kick everybody's ass right out the starting gate. Why? WHY!?
HATE: Corrupted downloads of "Feel Good Inc." and Common's "Go".
LOVE: Paul Anka's covers, even if the whole CD was too expensive.
LOVE: The Swingers DVD, if only to fast forward through The Most Awkward Scene In Movie History. (That's not only, I got it for $7.50. But even so.)
LOVE: The first date Sunday.
HATE: The first date Sunday.
HATE: The voice who reminded me right before I went to sleep last night regarding the top 5 convo with Liz that I had omitted Run-DMC.
LOVE: What will be, once the appropriate measure of fame and looks is met at the Con, the best Answering Machine Message of All-Time: Hi, I'm ________. You may recognize me from (x), (y), and (z). Listen, if you called --my number-- hoping to talk to Butch, bad news. He's tied up at the moment. Well, that's not entirely true--it's more like he's cuffed up and not going anywhere until I'm done having my way with him. Ain't that right, baby? Anyway, I promise if you do the usual, once he gets his strength back he'll call you. Okay? Okay. Now...where'd I put that banana..."
LOVE: This post reminding me to kick off some invites for the the Summer Jam in a fortnight.
Ambient music: "It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) (unplugged) " by R.E.M.
"Ship was nice, food was good, everything was going great...and then somebody yelled out 'Iceberg!'..."
I keep trying to myself this was a good day, full far more of triumphs than missteps. But what a misstep. And, me being me, despite the fact it's the last thing that happened I get the feeling that's what's going to be on my mind tomorrow.
Work today was pretty jejune. I did, based on some smart Aussie advice, write out what it is I want Famous Woman Who I Meet At Comic-Con to say as the answering machine message and it went over huge with Ivan so I know it's good. I solidified a date on Sunday with Rebecca who I met at the Bitter End's Memorial Day eve party after some slight maniuplation on my part to get her attention. I went over to Fumari, where I proceeded to work Ivan over like Kunta Kinte in our game of superpowers/land/hot chicks poker (in public you can't play for cash in the City of San Diego™); he may've beaten me 6 times in two and a half hours. And Jen showed up again at Fumari from my Spanish class last year; the last time I'd went with Ivan she'd shown up out of the blue then, too. You say coincidence, I say the glass is half-full and I have a cute Asian stalker.
So this is all and well to the good, but now the inevitable fuckup.
So Liz walks over to Ivan to give him the Best Hot Chocolate in Town, and I ask her her top 5 music acts of all time. I say it's a simple question, and she says it's not. But she does in short order rattle off the Beatles, the Stones, Elvis, Unwritten Law (?!) and Aretha Franklin (!!!).
No, the fuckup is I didn't immediately jump in with "Elvis was a hero to most, but he never meant shit to me!" My list: the Zeppelin, Al Green, the Peppers, Parliament/Funkadelic, and, "of course", R.E.M.
It doesn't occur to me until 5 minutes after we leave I've forgotten the Clash.
It doesn't occur to me until 10 minutes after we leave I've forgotten Public Enemy.
And then...
B : See, I was knocking on the door, and now I fucked it all up. She was like "I was going to fuck him at some point, but I can't be with him now. He didn't even mention Nirvana!"
(beat)
(realization)
HOLY SHIT, I *DIDN'T* MENTION NIRVANA! Oh, son of a bitch! Well, that's it. Clearly, I'm going to have to go home and kill myself.
You know, only I have the idiot savant acumen and sharp timing to tell a joke and then have it almost on impact horribly blow up in my face. Sweet fucking Jesus. Clearly, we're never going to hook up now.
Brooks Was Here.
Current music: "Only U" by Ashanti
Work today was pretty jejune. I did, based on some smart Aussie advice, write out what it is I want Famous Woman Who I Meet At Comic-Con to say as the answering machine message and it went over huge with Ivan so I know it's good. I solidified a date on Sunday with Rebecca who I met at the Bitter End's Memorial Day eve party after some slight maniuplation on my part to get her attention. I went over to Fumari, where I proceeded to work Ivan over like Kunta Kinte in our game of superpowers/land/hot chicks poker (in public you can't play for cash in the City of San Diego™); he may've beaten me 6 times in two and a half hours. And Jen showed up again at Fumari from my Spanish class last year; the last time I'd went with Ivan she'd shown up out of the blue then, too. You say coincidence, I say the glass is half-full and I have a cute Asian stalker.
So this is all and well to the good, but now the inevitable fuckup.
So Liz walks over to Ivan to give him the Best Hot Chocolate in Town, and I ask her her top 5 music acts of all time. I say it's a simple question, and she says it's not. But she does in short order rattle off the Beatles, the Stones, Elvis, Unwritten Law (?!) and Aretha Franklin (!!!).
No, the fuckup is I didn't immediately jump in with "Elvis was a hero to most, but he never meant shit to me!" My list: the Zeppelin, Al Green, the Peppers, Parliament/Funkadelic, and, "of course", R.E.M.
It doesn't occur to me until 5 minutes after we leave I've forgotten the Clash.
It doesn't occur to me until 10 minutes after we leave I've forgotten Public Enemy.
And then...
B : See, I was knocking on the door, and now I fucked it all up. She was like "I was going to fuck him at some point, but I can't be with him now. He didn't even mention Nirvana!"
(beat)
(realization)
HOLY SHIT, I *DIDN'T* MENTION NIRVANA! Oh, son of a bitch! Well, that's it. Clearly, I'm going to have to go home and kill myself.
You know, only I have the idiot savant acumen and sharp timing to tell a joke and then have it almost on impact horribly blow up in my face. Sweet fucking Jesus. Clearly, we're never going to hook up now.
Brooks Was Here.
Current music: "Only U" by Ashanti
6/9/05
39 Running For Second
All right, Jessica, I get it. You really want to be #1 the rest of the year.
- The war for the top 10 contines, with Bilson narrowly getting ahead of Keibler this time around.
- Tyra Banks took the biggest hit of anyone who remained, dropping 15 to 39.
- Both JLH & Katherine Heigl jumped 12, but Nikki Cox had the biggest jump by going up 15.
- The turnover rate? 12%: welcome back Christian Milian, and back for the first time are Pam Anderson, Kate Beckinsale, Jessica Biel, and Shakira.
6/8/05
Not Just For Sodas
I feel so unbelievably bad I have to bump the Best Post Ever off the top slot on the marquee.
So my poker home game has somehow in the couple times I've missed out on switched its prime night from Saturday to Tuesday. Maybe this is a temporary thing, but I actually don't mind as you guys know the odds of me busting hump at the J O are way smaller on martes than sabado. Since it is a perilous shoestring 48 hours before the paycheck, Aaron is kind enough to front me $10 to buy in.
Tonight I think I played better than the time before, and exponentially better than the time before that. It's the point of playing NL Tex for cash; to not fritter away your money (even loaned) in a bunch of draw chases that end up going nowhere, to be able to read people, and most proudly, to know when to fold 'em. I think of at least three folds: pocket 6s where nothing came on the river and I would've gotten outdrawn is first and foremost, though I also ditched a 10-A suited facing a raise and reraise. I also remember getting two pair, but almost getting pushed to the breaking point and folding--what would've jobbed out to a better two pair.
Crowning achievement: finally toppling the monster once known as Bruce. Bruce has treated me & Aaron in the past few games the same way the Voorhies treat kids who come to camp, and we have never beaten him for any significant amount of money. So tonight after a flop comes down with JQ in it he's looking at my stack like he can imagine the 47" monitor it's going to fund to upgrade from that pussy-ass 30" he's got going on, and I push all in. Pocket Kings. Sacramento. I am fucked, unless by some divine act of Alba OH HOLY JESSICA MARIE IT'S THE LAST FUCKING KING IN THE DECK MAKING ME THE NUT STRAIGHT! Bruce is almost dead! Good, after 2,005 years of suffering, has finally bitchslapped evil into compliance!
All right, I am exaggerating slightly but damn it felt good. Bruce loses his remaining pittiance on the next hand, and Peter sings the second best song of all-time, "Bruce Just Lost All His Money (In The Last Two Hands)". When the night ends and they shuffle back off to the Official Taco Shop of the Local Klan, I'm ahead enough to give back Aaron his money and remain 7 up.
Sadly, I blew it all on big-ass peanut butter cups and whores.
Okay, I just blew some of it on the big-ass peanut butter cups. But it's still a good night in my development, and hey, Celebrity Poker Showdown in 45...of course, if it's the Brad Garrett ep, I'll be falling asleep to Katie Couric...
Current music: "Southside" by Moby & Gwen Stefani
So my poker home game has somehow in the couple times I've missed out on switched its prime night from Saturday to Tuesday. Maybe this is a temporary thing, but I actually don't mind as you guys know the odds of me busting hump at the J O are way smaller on martes than sabado. Since it is a perilous shoestring 48 hours before the paycheck, Aaron is kind enough to front me $10 to buy in.
Tonight I think I played better than the time before, and exponentially better than the time before that. It's the point of playing NL Tex for cash; to not fritter away your money (even loaned) in a bunch of draw chases that end up going nowhere, to be able to read people, and most proudly, to know when to fold 'em. I think of at least three folds: pocket 6s where nothing came on the river and I would've gotten outdrawn is first and foremost, though I also ditched a 10-A suited facing a raise and reraise. I also remember getting two pair, but almost getting pushed to the breaking point and folding--what would've jobbed out to a better two pair.
Crowning achievement: finally toppling the monster once known as Bruce. Bruce has treated me & Aaron in the past few games the same way the Voorhies treat kids who come to camp, and we have never beaten him for any significant amount of money. So tonight after a flop comes down with JQ in it he's looking at my stack like he can imagine the 47" monitor it's going to fund to upgrade from that pussy-ass 30" he's got going on, and I push all in. Pocket Kings. Sacramento. I am fucked, unless by some divine act of Alba OH HOLY JESSICA MARIE IT'S THE LAST FUCKING KING IN THE DECK MAKING ME THE NUT STRAIGHT! Bruce is almost dead! Good, after 2,005 years of suffering, has finally bitchslapped evil into compliance!
All right, I am exaggerating slightly but damn it felt good. Bruce loses his remaining pittiance on the next hand, and Peter sings the second best song of all-time, "Bruce Just Lost All His Money (In The Last Two Hands)". When the night ends and they shuffle back off to the Official Taco Shop of the Local Klan, I'm ahead enough to give back Aaron his money and remain 7 up.
Sadly, I blew it all on big-ass peanut butter cups and whores.
Okay, I just blew some of it on the big-ass peanut butter cups. But it's still a good night in my development, and hey, Celebrity Poker Showdown in 45...of course, if it's the Brad Garrett ep, I'll be falling asleep to Katie Couric...
Current music: "Southside" by Moby & Gwen Stefani
6/5/05
How You Living, Butchie Smalls?
No mansions or benzes, no m's to my friends but it's still stupendous.
SATURDAY (P.M.): Work. Go home and get my fresh on. Hit the club. Crazier than usual: an astounding Beyonce impression, ass-smacking, chicks kissing, and a funk band covering the Clash, along with the usual bump-and-grind suspects. Hit Fumari, say hi to Liz, and have the Best Hot Chocolate in the City. Crash out at the crack of 4.
SUNDAY (A.M.): Curse construction and the fact it's 9. Pancakes. Pancakes.
SUNDAY (P.M.): Change your font on the blog with a click of the keyboard the first time out without ruining anything else. Get back to work. Covering the marathon's after-party. Find out the DJ ain't no joke when he warms up with "Pump It Up". Proceed to plow through entire shift doing 15% ticket tacking and 85% dancing. "Let's Get Retarded", "Sex Machine" (!), "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough", "Don't Phunk With My Heart", admire the courage of those who put in 26 and still had enough in them to grind to "Yeah", and yes, the Macarena & YMCA. Find out apparently the funniest thing ever is the Jon Lovitz dance. For the uniniated, close your eyes, put a smile on your face, and shake your upper torso like a video honey on X. Get off an hour early. And download!
Current music: "Touch" by Amerie, which damn sure better blow up
SATURDAY (P.M.): Work. Go home and get my fresh on. Hit the club. Crazier than usual: an astounding Beyonce impression, ass-smacking, chicks kissing, and a funk band covering the Clash, along with the usual bump-and-grind suspects. Hit Fumari, say hi to Liz, and have the Best Hot Chocolate in the City. Crash out at the crack of 4.
SUNDAY (A.M.): Curse construction and the fact it's 9. Pancakes. Pancakes.
SUNDAY (P.M.): Change your font on the blog with a click of the keyboard the first time out without ruining anything else. Get back to work. Covering the marathon's after-party. Find out the DJ ain't no joke when he warms up with "Pump It Up". Proceed to plow through entire shift doing 15% ticket tacking and 85% dancing. "Let's Get Retarded", "Sex Machine" (!), "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough", "Don't Phunk With My Heart", admire the courage of those who put in 26 and still had enough in them to grind to "Yeah", and yes, the Macarena & YMCA. Find out apparently the funniest thing ever is the Jon Lovitz dance. For the uniniated, close your eyes, put a smile on your face, and shake your upper torso like a video honey on X. Get off an hour early. And download!
Current music: "Touch" by Amerie, which damn sure better blow up
6/3/05
A Never-Ending War Between Love And Hate, Updated For Friday
HATE: The cut I got yesterday right on the borderline between mustache and lip. Hopefully, that won't get out of control ugly before it heals up.
HATE: My mom getting on me about getting another job, or a full-time job. AND wanting me to go to school. First of all, I don't have time to do all of the above, second, between her illness, my Grandmother, Sparks games, and holidays, the last time she worked a whole 40-hour week was in 2003, and third, I'm only young once. I got plenty of years for the Man to full-over fuck me in the ass; there's only X amount of time I get to see my friends and party and play poker, et al. This is leftover from yesterday, but even so. Every time I get consecutive days off this shit comes up again.
HATE: I picked a girl up Memorial Day Eve, but I don't know when we're gonna get together with my schedule being really odd for the next week and not knowing for the week after that.
HATE: Gray weather. I was hoping with the Memorial Day weekend being mostly in the high 70s and low 80s we'd finally turned a corner on our year, but I guess not.
LOVE: Three weeks remain until the First Annual Rick James Memorial Summer Jam.
LOVE: This Charles Barkley quote page. A sampling: Everybody is automatically better when they play wtih Shaquille O'Neal. Look at it this way: We haven't heard anything from Devean George or Derek Fisher. Rick Fox retired. All those (Lakers) guys were good players, but they are not nearly as good without Shaquille. We didn't even know (Heat guard) Damon Jones was alive three months ago, and now he's leading the league in three-point shooting because his man is camped in Shaquille O'Neal's lap.
LOVE: Six weeks until Comic-Con, bitches!
HATE: The debating I'm having on when I meet a famous girl there, if I should have the crux of the voicemail "Butch isn't here" message written out already to save time or just have them wing it.
SOME NEBULOUS GRAY AREA: Winnie Cooper, you get some clothes on! And I really never, ever thought I'd be using that sentence...
HATE: The myriad of links since I'm feeling more meh than up today. What is this, a Johnny B post?
LOVE: The lack of problems from the other two since I dropped IE and threw Netscape at them.
Current music: "Underneath Your Clothes" by Shakira
HATE: My mom getting on me about getting another job, or a full-time job. AND wanting me to go to school. First of all, I don't have time to do all of the above, second, between her illness, my Grandmother, Sparks games, and holidays, the last time she worked a whole 40-hour week was in 2003, and third, I'm only young once. I got plenty of years for the Man to full-over fuck me in the ass; there's only X amount of time I get to see my friends and party and play poker, et al. This is leftover from yesterday, but even so. Every time I get consecutive days off this shit comes up again.
HATE: I picked a girl up Memorial Day Eve, but I don't know when we're gonna get together with my schedule being really odd for the next week and not knowing for the week after that.
HATE: Gray weather. I was hoping with the Memorial Day weekend being mostly in the high 70s and low 80s we'd finally turned a corner on our year, but I guess not.
LOVE: Three weeks remain until the First Annual Rick James Memorial Summer Jam.
LOVE: This Charles Barkley quote page. A sampling: Everybody is automatically better when they play wtih Shaquille O'Neal. Look at it this way: We haven't heard anything from Devean George or Derek Fisher. Rick Fox retired. All those (Lakers) guys were good players, but they are not nearly as good without Shaquille. We didn't even know (Heat guard) Damon Jones was alive three months ago, and now he's leading the league in three-point shooting because his man is camped in Shaquille O'Neal's lap.
LOVE: Six weeks until Comic-Con, bitches!
HATE: The debating I'm having on when I meet a famous girl there, if I should have the crux of the voicemail "Butch isn't here" message written out already to save time or just have them wing it.
SOME NEBULOUS GRAY AREA: Winnie Cooper, you get some clothes on! And I really never, ever thought I'd be using that sentence...
HATE: The myriad of links since I'm feeling more meh than up today. What is this, a Johnny B post?
LOVE: The lack of problems from the other two since I dropped IE and threw Netscape at them.
Current music: "Underneath Your Clothes" by Shakira
6/1/05
Bless You, Keith Olbermann
So? The brand-new falling in love feeling? Medically specificially located upon a certain part of the brain. The only comparable things doctors found to equal the feeling are the following: vast quantities of chocolate numbering in pounds, winning money, and--I shit you not--cocaine.
Cocaine.
I think those of you familiar with my viewing habits know where I'm going with this: new poonani's a hell of a drug.
Current music: "The Last DJ" by Tom Petty
Cocaine.
I think those of you familiar with my viewing habits know where I'm going with this: new poonani's a hell of a drug.
Current music: "The Last DJ" by Tom Petty
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