Thursday, November 27, 2008

My girl's got my money like I'm Old Dirty Bastard

Go watch Wild Style (Circa 1982). Do it now. Hip-hop hippity if you haven't already hombres. 

My apartment is freezing. I haven't slept in a long time, and when I do, I have deranged, masochistic dreams. Oh, and the dog upstairs has been barking every 3 seconds for the past 2 and a half hours. One would likely conclude these circumstances might produce a bitter, paranoid introvert, but I'm surprisingly not phased and by day somehow manage to pull off my usual sarcastic smugness. I'm pretty pumped to hit that old familiar dance floor tonight, dance party, as always, compliments of the sexiest GOSH DAMN dj's this side of the mesosphere. I'm hoping they'll rebang-out MARS for me even though I have already requested it on a previous night, but in light of the upcoming FAKE BLOOD concert in Toronto (if you're not there I hope you get kicked in the face with a homeless man's foot), I figure its called for. On the topic of dance parties, I will highly recommend NOT trying to have a dance party on booze lathered tarped floors. We went to a U of T frat party on the weekend (don't ask), and not only did I fall down the stairs twice, but Ju fucking brukkk her jaw. Crazy shit is, girl gets up and parties harder than ever, blood and all, now thats some fucking balls, boys. Everyone give the girl a high five when you see her, and I'm dedicating the Designer Drugs song to her. I've been listening to a lot of music lately, dropped by Rotate This to pick up some tickets and of course ended up buying the new Gang Gang Dance album, which is retarded good, but everyone says that so I'm going to fuck off on that one. What is the absolute cheapest way to get drunk? No, seriously, someone tell me. Something thats not new but cool and somehow managed to slip through my zombie like album sifting is Human Highway (dude from Unicorns and Jim Guthrie). Holy Hate Mail! Its the best shit to fall asleep to, or to lie in bed and wish you sleeping to. Im going to start making all of my cloths, its a very anti-American Apparel statement; as lately I've been hearing more and more people go on near psychotic, murderous AA tangents. I've realized that every blog I force myself to read instead of doing work is flaunting that shit like an impoverished Afghani Farmer with 5 super hot, definitely sell worthy teenaged daughters. Oh shit, guys, now there's an angry, Gestapo looking man knocking on my door, and he's wearing 65 different colors of the softest, over priced cotton I have EVER SEEN. Help!
Signing out:
Pepper -You Just Went Too Far- Park

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