Marc
I've got a new idea for the sight, though the term 'new' may not be so appropriate. I've got a CD to review, and its through Sean over at The Bitches, and he basically gave it to me cause he thinks I'm a critic. And I am. I can't help it. Call me Rob Gordon. Call me Gene Shallit. I like to tell people what I think about what they're doing. And I'm going to review the CD for Monday, and I'm hoping this can turn into a thing where we review CD's for good, from now on. I think we get enough traffic to constitute some reviews, and hopefully there'll be some labels out there willing to send some shit in. They may not like what we say, but that's a risk that they take every time they send something out, isn't it?
I could also just be being hopeful right now. I want free shit, and I think this could be a great way to get it. I know that Zook did some review work for Jessica Hopper or something a while back. Do you still do that shit, kid? I'm curious.
Tonight was lackluster, at best, but it was spent in the company of friends, so that gives it a raging thumbs up. I just wasn't into the partying mode tonight. I couldn't tell you why. I was so looking forward to this weekend, and when it gets here I just kind of feel deflated. I didn't feel like walking anywhere. I didn't feel like spending any money, and blah blah, but I did those things, and I went along. We went and saw Kenzo (also of The Bitches) spin over at some rave-tastic party. I'm pretty sure he got screwed billwise, because honestly who throws a rave that starts at 9pm? There were a bunch of deuchebag looking raver kids there, and I was expressing distaste, and Matt starts ripping into me and telling me I'm too judgemental, which I am, but fuck it. If some fucker's wearing a yellow, flower patterned Hawaiian shirt with a Mossimo, grey hat cocked sideways and pants that are three thousand times too big, I'm going to make fun of him.
I'm no fucking fashion officer, but these kids look retarded. I'm talking to the dude in the pants with the little ribbons hanging out of the cargo pockets that should've been parallel to his thighs, but ended up being parallel to his fucking ankles. I'm talking to the fat guy that had his pants rolled up. I'm talking to the girl with the fucking kitty-kat backpack and the lollipop in her mouth. Punk kids look ridiculous, too. I'm no fan of mohawks or ripped shirts held together with safety pins. I'm no fan of Ralph Lauren or Polo gear, worn by fratboys and average motherfuckers. I'm all about keeping it on an even keel. I like it when girls wear jeans and t-shirts, or sweatshirts. I think that's attractive. I like plain. I live common. I like a simply patterned collared shirt, or a solid colored hoody.
I'm not judgemental. I'm just fucking opionated, and I don't think that people see past this sometime. They see me as this guy that fucking rags on everything a lot, which I do, but that doesn't mean that I actually am totally disgusted by the things that I see going on around me. I'd end up like Kevin Spacey in Seven if that was the case. I see things that piss me off. I see things that don't make any sense to me. I can't comprehend wanting to look like a raver, but that doesn't mean that I want to kill all ravers. I can't comprehend dressing in khakis and Abercrombie shit every day, but that doesn't mean I want to kill all frat boys. I'm for looking normal, and anything beyond that just doesn't make any sense to me. I know that sounds ridiculous, and it sounds terrible, but its the fucking truth. I deal with it every day. These opinions, they're part of who I am. I wish it weren't so.
I've got a new idea for the sight, though the term 'new' may not be so appropriate. I've got a CD to review, and its through Sean over at The Bitches, and he basically gave it to me cause he thinks I'm a critic. And I am. I can't help it. Call me Rob Gordon. Call me Gene Shallit. I like to tell people what I think about what they're doing. And I'm going to review the CD for Monday, and I'm hoping this can turn into a thing where we review CD's for good, from now on. I think we get enough traffic to constitute some reviews, and hopefully there'll be some labels out there willing to send some shit in. They may not like what we say, but that's a risk that they take every time they send something out, isn't it?
I could also just be being hopeful right now. I want free shit, and I think this could be a great way to get it. I know that Zook did some review work for Jessica Hopper or something a while back. Do you still do that shit, kid? I'm curious.
Tonight was lackluster, at best, but it was spent in the company of friends, so that gives it a raging thumbs up. I just wasn't into the partying mode tonight. I couldn't tell you why. I was so looking forward to this weekend, and when it gets here I just kind of feel deflated. I didn't feel like walking anywhere. I didn't feel like spending any money, and blah blah, but I did those things, and I went along. We went and saw Kenzo (also of The Bitches) spin over at some rave-tastic party. I'm pretty sure he got screwed billwise, because honestly who throws a rave that starts at 9pm? There were a bunch of deuchebag looking raver kids there, and I was expressing distaste, and Matt starts ripping into me and telling me I'm too judgemental, which I am, but fuck it. If some fucker's wearing a yellow, flower patterned Hawaiian shirt with a Mossimo, grey hat cocked sideways and pants that are three thousand times too big, I'm going to make fun of him.
I'm no fucking fashion officer, but these kids look retarded. I'm talking to the dude in the pants with the little ribbons hanging out of the cargo pockets that should've been parallel to his thighs, but ended up being parallel to his fucking ankles. I'm talking to the fat guy that had his pants rolled up. I'm talking to the girl with the fucking kitty-kat backpack and the lollipop in her mouth. Punk kids look ridiculous, too. I'm no fan of mohawks or ripped shirts held together with safety pins. I'm no fan of Ralph Lauren or Polo gear, worn by fratboys and average motherfuckers. I'm all about keeping it on an even keel. I like it when girls wear jeans and t-shirts, or sweatshirts. I think that's attractive. I like plain. I live common. I like a simply patterned collared shirt, or a solid colored hoody.
I'm not judgemental. I'm just fucking opionated, and I don't think that people see past this sometime. They see me as this guy that fucking rags on everything a lot, which I do, but that doesn't mean that I actually am totally disgusted by the things that I see going on around me. I'd end up like Kevin Spacey in Seven if that was the case. I see things that piss me off. I see things that don't make any sense to me. I can't comprehend wanting to look like a raver, but that doesn't mean that I want to kill all ravers. I can't comprehend dressing in khakis and Abercrombie shit every day, but that doesn't mean I want to kill all frat boys. I'm for looking normal, and anything beyond that just doesn't make any sense to me. I know that sounds ridiculous, and it sounds terrible, but its the fucking truth. I deal with it every day. These opinions, they're part of who I am. I wish it weren't so.
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