Zach Oooh!n
All the pretty girls go to the city.
HoratioSanzTheBlackBearHammy is flexing in his new home, compliments of his papa. New little red thing to hide out in, new vitamins in his water, new treat dish. If I was making solid dollars, I would've bought him the little space ship setup they have for hamsters. Fucking space age shit. Today he put an almond slice in his fucking pouch and stood on his hind legs and made the universal for "getting some" with his hips. Sort of, anyway.
This is sad to me. Wheat is a band I like very much, and Aware Records has become the label that sends its "A&R guys" (read: interns or doods who want to look cool) to every show and gives out business cards and says "call me." to every band they see. I saw them do this to Camden, a band I like very much, one night. The guy who was there from Aware was a total frat boy, he might as well have been wearing his letters. He was piss drunk, and was being loud as to let us know "I'm important!". Now, if J.Dow still reads this, he'll point out that, in high school, I had quite a catalog of Aware Records' bands. Two, at least. Jackopierce, who I stand by as saying were fucking rad for that shtyle of mushic, and, can I spit it out?, Matchbox 20. Yes, I owned their first album. I had seen them live once, I think, opening for another band, and I thought they were OK. I got their album for cheap from work. That doesn't justify it. I remember last year somebody trying to defend their pleasure with Nickelback. Let's get this straight. Matchbox 20 is evil. Capital Evil. But, well, they were the first band to pull it off, making them Pioneering Evil. That doesn't make it right. I didn't have to admit it. I liked a couple of songs. A lot. I don't like them anymore. I may have burned that CD to get high one night. I didn't do that. I should have. Though.
Anyway, Wheat are one of my favorite bands, their album Hope and Adams holds up after quite a long time and quite a few copy cats. To see them here...I just hope the content doesn't get cut for the bottom line.
The Fantasy League. Notice my JulioItsTimeForYourAssWhooping of my bro's team this week, and that I have lapped
GregStatigue into second place and, thus, a bye week in the playoffs. Only on the WorldWideWeb can a bunch of never-wills pretend to be heroes. And The Lord Of the Rings movies.
Sitting, watching the Bloomington Bar Scene from my window. Every night, without fail:
a. There's an ambulance. How fucking rawkus do you have to be to need an ambulance when yer out drinking? And I mean
every fucking night there's an ambulance.
b. Someone needs a tow truck. Two weeks ago I saw a cop tow an Expedition after he had busted the occupants (Four Young Black Males) for something major. Right now there's one in the intersection of Market and Main, blocking all the traffic.
c. Douchebags in the apartment start singing songs. One of them fancies himself a Singer, capital S. He bellows and tries to do that thing with his voice where he shouts but it's supposed to have a melody to it. Doesn't work, dude. Also doesn't work that he sings "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel every time. He actually sounds exactly like that other D.Bag that covered that song that got on the radio last summer. I jumped from the top of my couch onto the floor the other night cos he was blasting Tim McGraw at midnight and the fucking walls in my apartment were shaking. I hear him turn it down and then I hear him (the walls are thin, and we share a brick wall that has little to no insulation) fucking bitching about me, and he threatens to come up and beat my ass, to which I jumped again, and he shut his ass up. He doesn't know who I am, and there are quite a few truly tough ass people in this building, so I'll use that.
Next five albums to be heard in my headphones: Turn on the bright lights by interpol; Kill the moonlight by spoon;
Lost in Space by aimee mann; The sound of fuck meeting ing, or why you can't trust a fucking group of fifth generation krauts by lois lane; and bramble rose by tift merrit.
in the stereo: Britt daniels/Bright Eyes Split CD (I got #129/2000 which means very little to me as I collect to consume, not to soil my shorts)
All the pretty girls go to the city.
HoratioSanzTheBlackBearHammy is flexing in his new home, compliments of his papa. New little red thing to hide out in, new vitamins in his water, new treat dish. If I was making solid dollars, I would've bought him the little space ship setup they have for hamsters. Fucking space age shit. Today he put an almond slice in his fucking pouch and stood on his hind legs and made the universal for "getting some" with his hips. Sort of, anyway.
This is sad to me. Wheat is a band I like very much, and Aware Records has become the label that sends its "A&R guys" (read: interns or doods who want to look cool) to every show and gives out business cards and says "call me." to every band they see. I saw them do this to Camden, a band I like very much, one night. The guy who was there from Aware was a total frat boy, he might as well have been wearing his letters. He was piss drunk, and was being loud as to let us know "I'm important!". Now, if J.Dow still reads this, he'll point out that, in high school, I had quite a catalog of Aware Records' bands. Two, at least. Jackopierce, who I stand by as saying were fucking rad for that shtyle of mushic, and, can I spit it out?, Matchbox 20. Yes, I owned their first album. I had seen them live once, I think, opening for another band, and I thought they were OK. I got their album for cheap from work. That doesn't justify it. I remember last year somebody trying to defend their pleasure with Nickelback. Let's get this straight. Matchbox 20 is evil. Capital Evil. But, well, they were the first band to pull it off, making them Pioneering Evil. That doesn't make it right. I didn't have to admit it. I liked a couple of songs. A lot. I don't like them anymore. I may have burned that CD to get high one night. I didn't do that. I should have. Though.
Anyway, Wheat are one of my favorite bands, their album Hope and Adams holds up after quite a long time and quite a few copy cats. To see them here...I just hope the content doesn't get cut for the bottom line.
The Fantasy League. Notice my JulioItsTimeForYourAssWhooping of my bro's team this week, and that I have lapped
GregStatigue into second place and, thus, a bye week in the playoffs. Only on the WorldWideWeb can a bunch of never-wills pretend to be heroes. And The Lord Of the Rings movies.
Sitting, watching the Bloomington Bar Scene from my window. Every night, without fail:
a. There's an ambulance. How fucking rawkus do you have to be to need an ambulance when yer out drinking? And I mean
every fucking night there's an ambulance.
b. Someone needs a tow truck. Two weeks ago I saw a cop tow an Expedition after he had busted the occupants (Four Young Black Males) for something major. Right now there's one in the intersection of Market and Main, blocking all the traffic.
c. Douchebags in the apartment start singing songs. One of them fancies himself a Singer, capital S. He bellows and tries to do that thing with his voice where he shouts but it's supposed to have a melody to it. Doesn't work, dude. Also doesn't work that he sings "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel every time. He actually sounds exactly like that other D.Bag that covered that song that got on the radio last summer. I jumped from the top of my couch onto the floor the other night cos he was blasting Tim McGraw at midnight and the fucking walls in my apartment were shaking. I hear him turn it down and then I hear him (the walls are thin, and we share a brick wall that has little to no insulation) fucking bitching about me, and he threatens to come up and beat my ass, to which I jumped again, and he shut his ass up. He doesn't know who I am, and there are quite a few truly tough ass people in this building, so I'll use that.
Next five albums to be heard in my headphones: Turn on the bright lights by interpol; Kill the moonlight by spoon;
Lost in Space by aimee mann; The sound of fuck meeting ing, or why you can't trust a fucking group of fifth generation krauts by lois lane; and bramble rose by tift merrit.
in the stereo: Britt daniels/Bright Eyes Split CD (I got #129/2000 which means very little to me as I collect to consume, not to soil my shorts)
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