THAT WAS SO FUN!

I'm not big on birthdays, and turning 32 isn't exactly a milestone, but HOLY SHIT I had a blast last night. At first I felt a bit odd throwing a party for myself, but in retrospect, it was really a gathering of the people I love, respect and admire.

A month ago I reserved the "party room" at the bar I work at, but at the last minute it got re-upped by a bunch of people who were tasting various pies paired with specific beers (gross) but it worked out in the end; the weather was so nice my friends and I commanded the patio instead.

Around 9 or 10 o'clock the left over pies were served to us (Elvis Pie = Chocolate/Caramel/Banana/Pretzel Crust) and my official birthday cake took the form of a meatpie, with 3 candles paired with a shot of Jameson. It was beyond ideal.

Also ideal was just hanging out with my brother, his wife, their friends, my pseudo-ex Jake (whom I don't think I will be ever over) and friends, both new and old. The highlight/cringe inducing moment was having everyone, even a few strangers sang me "Happy Birthday".

Even Alpha Bro made an appearance. Friends...thank YOU :)

*10 CENT PISTOL

"The one on the left is named FUCK and the one on the right is known as YES."

In addition to my new additions to my burgeoning fleets of sneaks, I was proudly escorted to my place of employment with the guy that makes me very happy [PUKE]. I know...I KNOW! But my female co-workers co-signed on him; they think he's very cute. And I do not, nor will not disagree.

*The Black Key's song "10 Cent Pistol" is so, So, SO GOOD!

I'M A PROUD PAPA!

That right there is Montrose's first baby. It may not look like much...but holy hell, the bullshit I endured to produce that image. First off, I bought the wrong memory card, so it was an extra week of being sullen and staring forlornly at the new camera/Montrose.

But shit happens and my new $30 CF card arrived! Happy was I. Unfortunately I soon realized that my "new" camera came sans an operating manual. I found a PDF of it online today and printed it out...140 fucking pages. UGHx10! Oh and then I had to find the driver to print shit out.

BUT I DID IT!

OFFICIAL PROOF I AM NOW BLUE COLLAR

The image below is a proper way to make a workingman's lunch. You're looking at bread from a Vietnamese bakery (3 for $1!), Dry Cracov Sausage from a deli on the far West Side (Thanks Roomie IV!) and spicy mustard from the Dollar Store around the corner.

Although that sausage is delicious, I prefer not to gnaw on intensional casing. Thus illistrated is the after photo of the un-delicate process and ripping that shit off. It makes my fingers super greasy and makes me want to become a vegetarian. Gross.

But it's all worth it in the end. Dinner is served (or will be at some point while at work tonight) for next to nothing. Somehow I have subverted the European trend of eating well, and enjoying it, while also mashing it up with the American style of eating a bunch of crap Super fast. PERFECT!

Don't forget the PBR!

I GRANTED MYSELF A WISH TODAY

For the last 2-3 years I have annoyed my friends, chattering on about how I wish I could meld my Canon EOS Rebel 35mm camera with my Sony PowerShot; digital SLR cameras are certainly nothing new, but I just couldn't justify spending close to a $1K on one. I still cannot, although I found a work-around.

First, let me just state that although I probably should have been more conservative with my limited funds, I only have a few hobbies, which include writing, shooting pool and photography (one day when I'm rich and famous I'll indulge my inner race car driver). So I've made due with iPhone camera apps, and the results have been...most disappointing.

So now that I'm working again I have been able to quietly put aside some cash in the last month. I've also been cutting every expense I can, for example I'll walk the 1.5 miles to and from my gym to save on fucking bus fare. I roll my own smokes. I only eat at home. I drink PBR. With the end goal being I can buy a new AWESOME camera.

And I fucking did it. I did it.

PS - I named it "Montrose". I'll be wagging my imaginary Golden Retriever tail for the next 7-10 days until it arrives!

I GOT MY FUCKING SWAGGER BACK YO

Perhaps I've hinted here and there at the sand storm of doom that became my life the last 3+ months, but I'm proud to say I'm fuckin' back in action. My "trip" to hell and back included the loss of my Aunt (a truly awful situation that I'll spare details of), losing a roommate (not the current awesome one) thus eviscerating my meager savings and the recent diagnosis of my Stepfather's prostate cancer.

At one point, I hit rock bottom towards the end of January, and actually made an appointment with a mental hospital (I'm not joking) but the day I was supposed to go in I blew it off, as I was super fucking hungover. And you know what? I'm happy that's how it turned out...I'm not narcotized on head meds, (although I still enjoy my green friend).

But you know what? Somehow I pulled myself out of that nasty fucking dark hole, and I feel SO much stronger as a result. I've adapted to the reality that is my life now, accepted it, embraced it even. Because even though I'm not where I want to be, I like where I am. From taking better care of myself, to my new job that I love, and my kick ass new Roomie, I got my shit locked down tight.

Now I just need to get laid.

BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER!

After a look through my archives, I was surprised NOT to find a post about my downstairs neighbor. I'm certain there is at least one out there, either way, she's a raging Polish bitch who rarely hesitates to call my landlord on me for trivial matters that can be solved without a third party.

Case in point: the very first night I moved in ex-roomie and I introduced ourselves, and went so far as to offer both our cell numbers, with the hope that if we got too loud she could simply call us and let us know. Neighborly? No? [Ex-Roomie back me up here!]

So the first night we're both un-packing; I'm NOT rawking out to some NPR jazz on my fucking clock radio. Next morning at 8AM my cell rings and it's my landlord, asking me to "be more considerate" towards my new neighbors. FUCK. THAT. (un)NOISE.

This foreshadowed many, many additional calls from my landlord, via downstairs Polish woman. Some of which, I'll admit, we're probably warranted. I like to listen to shit fuckin' loud, but I've learned to listen to music while stationed at my PC wearing headphones. Maybe she doesn't like the sound of me fucking guys with vigor, but that ain't gonna change anytime soon.

Still, we learned to get along. After 2 years of her ignoring my "good mornings" and "good afternoons", and holding the doors to our place open, to help her ease her groceries in, I totally won her over. She still won't hesitate to hang a broom against her ceiling/my floor if I'm pissing her off, but, she's FUCKING MOVING OUT in a month! WOOT!

This is awesome on so many levels. Not only can I assert my dominance towards my next new downstairs neighbors, I can also attempt to re-negotiate the amount I pay for rent with my landlord (this building is quickly emptying out, there are vacancies all up in this bitch).

I'll admit it though, I might miss her presence; still is/was an invaluable resource about the shady side of this particular 'hood. She witnessed the transformation of this place over the course of 15+ years; way back then gang banger wanna be's used to smoke joints in the lobby of my building, and because of her constant bitching, she actually convinced the landlord to install a lock on the first door, to get them out.

Now that she's leaving...I might have to take her stewardship upon my back and keep not only my landlord in line, but also stupid punk-ass gang bangers-to-be. I gotta OWN this shit yo'!

IT'S LIKE THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS!

I might be staring down the big ol' 30, but I feel like a little kid right now. The reason? WIDESPREAD MOTHERFUCKIN' PANIC tonight! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT! And to top it off, The Allman Brothers are playing too. Gawdawmn, I'm getting slightly tumescent just thinking about how fuckin' hard tonight is gonna rock. And if that wasn't enough, I'm repeating it all tomorrow night too! Oh, and did I mention the venue if the former site of Meigs Field, situated right on the Lake Michigan, with the Chicago skyline in the background? And 2 of my bestest friends will be flanking my sides. [Take a breath!] This is going to kick SO MUCH ASS. While I'm writing this I'm rawking wit da cawk out to a song called "Fishwater".

Four train days

Get me back to New Orleans

Drink more fishwater there

Than any whale's mama ever seen

Alright tonight

I've been fueling my dreams eatin greens and beans

When I get back down there

I'm gonna drink more fish stew

Than all the big fishes do

And I still want more

I still want more

More...

I still want more

Gimme tonight

Gonna dream my way on back

Spend my life down there

Down on that bourbon street

Watch my money, and mind my legs down in New Orleans

Can't tell which mens turns womens there

And which womens just turns mean

And I still want more

I still want more

More...

I still want more

I've seen Widespread Panic at least 30 times, in various locales stretching from LA to DC, and many, many places in between. It's been a t least 2 years since I last saw my boys. It's all I can do not to tap my foot incessantly. More evidence of my excitement, is the phone call I'll attempt to transcribe between my Mom and myself yesterday:

MOM: "Hey honey...someones birthday is soon..."

ME: "NO FUCKING SHIT, WIDESPREAD MOTHERFUCKIN' PANIC is coming to town tomorrow to celebrate!"

MOM: "Ahhh, that's so nice."

ME: "NO FUCKING SHIT! Allman Brothers too!"

Can you tell I'm a tad bit excited? And this lyric makes me so fucking happy "if was life was a dream money could buy, the rich would live and the poor would die." I'm mos def in the latter catergory, but guess what? I FEEL SO ALIVE!

BEER, BEER & MORE BEER. ALSO, KARAOKE

Allow me to apologize in advance for what are sure to be a few grammar/spelling errors. I'm fucking exhausted, but I'm not feeling sorry for myself; there is an envelope sitting on my desk containing $405 in small bills, which dulls the pain inflicted by the numerous kegs of beer I had to heft this weekend. Oh, and I popped my karaoke cheery. For real. Read on...

Friday night I worked my usual doorman/whore shift. It was pretty uneventful and 6 hours spent on my feet passed mercifully fast. The only time it lagged was after I emptied the bar when we closed, and bore witness to a massive BITCH FEST because the bartenders/bar backs felt people screwed them out of tips (which they did).

Saturday was a LONG day/night. The same people that own the bar I work at got the beer concession at a street festival, and they employ the same people to work the 2 beers tents there. I thought I didn't have to work until 6PM, but no, had to work at 4PM. Whatever, I'll take what I can get.

Having said that, I was not prepared to stand for hours in 90 degree heat checking ID's and issuing wrist bands. Man...sweaty drunk people criticizing how tightly I apply a wristband gets old quick! Also, pouring beer after beer after beer, while easy, gets sticky very fast. The only thing I could do was drink beer faster and rub ice cubes on my hands to rid myself of the nasty feeling of having beer soak into my pores. Don't even get me started on the Sangria that nearly ruined my shoes.

Still, it was pretty easy and fun, despite the occasional asshole(s). After that I was ready to go to bed, but the night was not ready for me to be done quite yet...as I had to attend my very first bachelorette party! It wasn't a traditional "girly" type affair, but their were cock shaped everything everywhere (which I guess is but one reason I was invited).

Since my good friend is getting married at the last moment (long story) and I had not been able to afford a proper wedding gift, and since we ended up at a bar with Karaoke...I offered to sing her a song. I have never done it before, and might never again, but I think I made Jim Morrison proud with my rendition of "Roadhouse Blues". Oh, and then I got our group all on stage together for a collective rapeing of "Bohemian Rhapsody". Fuckin' A!

The night was not yet done though; a few of us ended up at a gay country western bar. Yes, you read that right. Clearly we were drunk out of our minds. The place was nasty, although mildly festive (except for the poor fellow visiting from Florida who doesn't drink...he just looked confused/terrified, especially after watching his sister make out with some random dude).

Needless to say I was tired as FUCK on Sunday. Going to bed at 5AM and wakeing up at 10AM makes me tired and feel kinda old. Whatever. I pressed through it with a littlwe help fro my friends (a steak sandwich, several beers and a bowl of hydroponic always helps).

Sunday back at the tent was much more intense then the previous evening. Whereas before ther were 16-18 people casually serving people, this tent had 7-8 people serving at least twice as many people. The good thing was that the time simply vanished. We were so busy I didn't even take a smoke break or take a piss for 4 straight hours. By the end of the night my shoes were squishy with beer and my white T-Shirt covered in Sangria.

I can still smell PBR.

Despite is all...I am SO FUCKING HAPPY that I was allowed to get covered in beer and surrounded by assholes. For 12 hours work I got PAID son! I had so much cash on me last night I could barely fit it in my pockets. Mostly it was single dollar bills, but I still felt rich for a moment.

So when I woke this morning I felt sore, hungover and fatigued. However...a cute boy I met 2 weeks ago wants to hang out. His name? Justin.

FUCK HEALTH INSURANCE, MY ROOMIE IS PRE-MED

When I thankfully was relieved of a job that I fucking hated last fall (FUCK - it's been that long?) I was generously graced with a extension of my health benefits for a solid month. Assholes. Still, I took full advantage of that shit. I got my teeth cleaned, had a physical performed and my eyes checked. Everything checked out. WORD.

But since that time so long ago, I have been without access to proper health care. That's where my Super-Awesome-Roommate comes in. I don't really have "allergies" per se, but the weather has been so fucked up here lately, that I am exhibiting signs of having a latent allergy to severe, and sudden changes in the weather. Thus, when I awoke this morning, my head produced an astonishing array of substances that I will not disclose here.

INT. VINTAGE CHICAGO APARTMENT (DAY)

ME: "Ugh, I can't fucking breathe out of my nose."

ROOMIE: "Oh, that sucks...hang on [rustles through a bag in his room]...here try this, it's called Nasonex".

ME: "Oh, well, um, I usually don't use shit like that, but what the hell [SNORTSQUEEZESNORT]...WOOOOOOO! It's like...my nose works again!"

ROOMIE: "Yeah, that's good shit."

No shit! There was a recent instance in which we both regretted not having each other around for our mutual benefit. After my ride got jacked, I rented Nissan Sentra from Enterprise. This particular vehicle had an unintended option in the form of a jagged piece of metal jutting from the door frame. When I went to close the door *SLICE* went 2 of my fingers. Holy shit. I haven't bled like that since...since I don't remember when.

The next day he inquired about the abortion in our bathroom trash can and asked "did you slice your throat last night?" I explained about my then immobile fingers, and after showing the wounds, he got pissed...because he needs to practice his stitching technique. It's like my own private ER, which for a randomly, injury-prone moron like myself, is rather comforting.

Despite this reassuring presence in my immediate vicinity, I have chosed not to play softball this summer; I know it's a sport for lazy drunks like myself, but fuck if I'm going to break something and pay through the (newly freed) nose to get it fixed, this shall be known as the SUMMER OF LEAST RESISTENCE!

THIS SONG DEFINES ME

Every so often a song comes along that gets so stuck in my mind that I like to think it was written for yours truely. At the least, this should have been written for me. Also, I want to RAWK THE SHIT out of Jarvis Cocker's world.  

I love your body 'cause I've lost my mind

If you want someone to talk to, you're wasting your time

If you want someone to share your life, you need someone who is alive

And if every relationship is a two-way street, I have been screwing in the back whilst you drive

I never said I was deep, but I am profoundly shallow

My lack of knowledge is vast, and my horizons are narrow

I never said I was big, I never said that I was clever

And if you're waiting to find what's going on in my mind, you could be waiting forever

Forever and ever

I can dance you to the end of the night 'cause I'm afraid of the dark

I have to confess I'm out of my depth

You're going over my head and straight through my heart

Some girls like to play it dirty, some girls want to be your mum

Me, I disrespected you whilst we were waiting for the taxi to come

My morality is shabby, my behaviour unacceptable

No, I'm not looking for a relationship, just a willy receptacle

I never said I was

I never said I was

I never said I was

I never said I was deep, but I am profoundly shallow

My lack of knowledge is vast, and my horizons are narrow

I never said I was big, I never said that I was clever

And if you're waiting to find what's going on in my mind, you could be waiting forever

Forever and ever

I never said I was deep, but I am profoundly shallow

My lack of knowledge is vast, and my horizons are narrow

I never said I was deep 

I MAY HAVE LOCATED THE LARGEST DICK IN THE CHICAGOLAND AREA

Sooo...last night my friend asked me to accompany her to a "ladies night" thing at a local bar. I went and assumed I would bear witness to my hot friend (seriously, she's smokin') hitting on the ladies. Maybe, I thought there would be a few cute guys there to look at. 

And there was one in particular. Total was hottie there with 2 women; he felt excluded since his female friends were mackin' on my female friend. I was all "OMG!" hottie talking to me, right? I mean, we're talking Soap Opera quality ass here. But you know what? After a 1 minute conversation, I deemed this "dreamboat" a dud. I politely excused myself to duck out for a smoke....

...and while smoking outside, I started talking to this cute, kinda preppy, tall as SHIT guy. Turns out it was his birthday. 1 jello shot (ugh) turned into 8, or 9, I don't know, but next thing I DO know, I was making out with this guy at the bar, and the lesbians around us were burning holes through us with their eyes. 

And then....WE DANCED! I fucking hate dancing. I'd almost rather get a cavity drilled (sans Novocaine) than dance in public, but I did. Fuck it. I was having (drunk) fun so I figured why not?

Well, the end of the night came, we exchanged digits, but then I suggested (more like slurred) let's watch a movie! Which we did. Kinda. About 3 minutes into "Y tu mama tambien" our pants were off...and right there...stood before me...THE BIGGEST COCK I HAVE EVER SEEN. Holy bullshit, I mean, imagine a tallboy can of beer...yeah. Like that. It caught me so off guard I reflexively stated "no way is that ever going inside of me". 

We didn't even have "sex-sex", instead we just made out and got each other off until the sun came up. I'm in mild shock, hungover (or maybe still drunk from the Jello shots) and now I have to help a friend move furniture. FUCK. 

But it's cool...cuz I got a movie date tomorrow night! WOOT. 

MY BOY LOUIS!

You might not know this about me, but I'm a WHORE for architecture, which today lead me to the grave of my favorite building artist...Louis Sullivan!

Poor guy died lonely, drunk and penniless. And not properly respected! I'm trying to do my part in that my next tattoo will be one of his design! More on that soon...

Overall, I must say that spending a sun-filled afternoon in a Victorian Era cemetery is a lovely way to pass the time! GO GRACELAND!

24 HOURS LATER

YAY! My wallet has been replenished with a crisp $50 bill. Sometimes I can't believe I get paid to "socialize" and drink for free. I really shouldn't bitch about such an easy job, although....

BOO! My head is literally ringing from the Gawd-awful House/Techno/Disco bullshit that ear-fucked me at an ear-splitting fucking decibel while at work tonight. At one point I actually said aloud that I'd rather listen to Yanni. And that was only a slight exaggeration.

YAY! I got high in the basement at the bar after we were closed. That was some good shit man! I might just have to blow that $50 on some hydro.

BOO! Before I got high I had to hoist a fucking couch down the narrow stairway that leads to the basement of said bar. Despite my natural predilection to be helpful, I fucking DESPISE moving furniture. 

YAY! Ice-cold Red Stripes were waiting for me when I got back upstairs. PBR is my bitch, but if I was stranded on a desert island, and I could only choose one unlimited supply of beer, it would be the delicious-ness that is Red Stripe [HOORAY, BEER!].  

BOO! My jaw hurts for some reason, probably from grinding my teeth while listening to the awful DJ circle jerk session. I can't believe people pay to listen to that shit, but each their own [NOTE TO SELF: consider purchasing ear plugs].

YAY! Again I was told by a random patron that I'm a "super-bad-ass-cool" Doorman. Thanks random person whom I'll likely never see again! I appreciate when my modest efforts are noted.

BOO! Whenever I drive home at 2AM-ish I seem to be the only non-taxi/non-drunk driver out and about. There is a special circle of hell reserved for both people. Learn to signal and merge Fuck-o's! 

YAY! For feeling slightly less down-in-the-dumps than I did last night about this time. Perhaps it's due to the sound of birds chirping outside my window; or maybe it's the Red Stripes and/or being around people besides myself. Either way...

PS - Damn, my bed looks comfy. SNOOZE-TIME shall commence in 3-2-1...

THE INFINTI ESSENCE IS HAWT

If I could be anywhere on the planet today, I'd have an easy decision on my hands: the 79TH International Motor Show in Geneva. Last year, in some post I can't seem to locate, I predicted that I wouldn't miss this years show. Obviously that didn't work out, but I have spent the afternoon reading about and oogling the dreamy new cars. Although the Aston Martin One-77 is re-dunk-u-lous and would look lovely parked next to a Rolls 200EX in my dream garage, what I really aspire to own, is this concept from Infiniti: The Essence (cheesy name).

Someone at Nissan had the brilliant idea of plucking the insane motor from a GT-R and supplementing it with a 150-HP electric motor for a combined 600 or HP. I'm about to commit automotive heresy, but here goes: THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CAR EVER. More so than the famed Bugatti Type 57 Atlantic (click here to see Ralph Lauren's whip). Those suitcases? Louis Vuitton. Whew. Just LOOK at that crease between the A and C pillars! Desperately gorgeous...

THE DIRTY LOU

My St. Louis journey officially began last Friday night when I packed a bag and left for work. Since I usually don't get off until 2:30AM or so (no - not like that!) I knew my 7AM morning call would come early, so I crashed at my buddy/travel companion's place. The Mighty Mohawk and myself would be embarking on our first road trip together!

MY CHARIOT AWAITS!

That's a picture of my whip parked at a truck stop somewhere in the middle of God-knows-where-Illinois. Despite hearing horror stories about Megabus, I was pleasantly surprised. The bus was clean, comfortable and the fare was a modest $15 in each direction. Considering gas would have cost at least $100 round trip, this was a steal!

Once Mohawk and I arrived we walked across downtown St. Louis to meet up with my friends/hosts at their hotel. After many, many, many HUGS the 4 of us made out way down to the Soulard 'hood. Along the way we encountered an ass load of people that had clearly decided to start drinking EARLY. At 3PM people were staggering drunk, and literally falling down in the street.

"SHOW US YOUR TITS!"  

While stumbling about we encountered this scene in which guys were yelling at the women in those windows to show us their "girls". When said women wouldn't comply, or took too long to do so, several of the drunk assholes int he crowd expressed their frustrations by throwing full cans of beer at them and calling them "BITCHES". Classy. 

Regardless of the presence of a few fucking 'tards, the HUGE crowd was generally well behaved, even if they couldn't walk a straight line to save their lives. Either way, I didn't care because I was with Mohawk, Cloudy (sorry - lame pseudonym babe!) and her hubby Army Man (ditto). 

ARMY MAN & CLOUDLY

After we consumed several of those 48oz pitchers we sought refuge in a bar since it was colder than Ann Coulter's heart. Last time Cloudy and I hung went carousing in St. Louis we hit up Clemintine's, which is apparently the oldest gay bar in St. Louis. The line was long as hell but the people around us in it were super funny and made the time fly. 

Just after we got in I got a text from Cockbag LLC. It's always great to meet fellow bloggers in person and he was no exception. Actually, almost all the people I had direct with were super nice. Especially, 2 particular guys I ended up making out with...at the same time. Lord knows how I pulled that off but the shots we shot seemed to help. 

The night devolved from there. Mohawk tried to pick up this girl but puked on the street, and at my suggestion that we should "FUCKING GAMBLE!!!" we walked the 80,000 blocks north to the Lumiere Place Casino. Though I quickly blew through my whopping gaming budget of $10, I really enjoyed walking around the casino. I don't know what is, but I really enjoy the atmosphere of a smokey casino...

Since Mohawk got locked out of the our hotel room, I opted to go back and let him in. He needed to clean up and wanted to smoke a joint. On my way up to the room I shared the elevator with 2 random DRUNK girls. In my infinite drunken wisdom, I decided that Mohawk might want to meet with these ladies, and they were game for smoking up. 

Again, my drunken "wisdom" allowed me to suggest that the 4 of us try to gain access to the roof of the hotel (this actually isn't as crazy as it sounds - as I've done it before in other hotels) to smoke. The waiter to spoke to (more like slurred my words to) in the restaurant on the 30th floor thought I was fucking crazy but quickly wrote me off as a Mardi Gras "casualty". 

We did eventually smoke in a parking lot of some sort if memory serves (it probably doesn't) and I soon after realized I needed to go to sleep, much to the chagrin of Cloudy & Army Man. The morning after they gifted me a new nickname: "Cuddle Monkey". The lesson? If you're a happily married couple that seeks a pleasant night of sleep, DO NOT LET ME SHARE THE BED WITH YOU. You *might* just wake up with me rubbing your husband's pecs...I'm just saying.

SHOW ME YOUR "MONEY"

IN 24 hours I shall be drunkenly romaing the historic 'hood of St. Louis called "Soulard" to engage in the festivites afforded by the 2nd largest Mardi Gras celebration in the USA. 

I plan on obtaining as many beads as possible, so it goes without saying my cock will be seeing lots of daylight. Not because I am an exhibitionist, but if I wanna see the boys' junk I gotta have some bead-like currency, ya know?

So...I am excited. Although that excitement has just been slightly tempured by the image that I just found when I did a Google Image serach for "Mardi Gras St. Louis" (see below).

FUCK!

N.A.S.A. "MONEY"

It's been awhile since I've anticipated a record dropping, but N.A.S.A.'s upcoming The Spirit of the Apollo has my nipples full attention. Take a gander at the guest list (just be sure you're sitting down first):

David Byrne, Chali 2na (Jurassic 5), Gift of Gab (Blackalicious), Chuck D, Method Man, E-40, DJ Swamp, RZA, John Frusciante, KRS-One, Fatlip, Karen O, Ol’ Dirty Bastard (from beyond the grave), Kanye West, Santogold, George Clinton, Spank Rock, M.I.A., Nick Zinner (Yeah Yeah Yeahs), Del tha Funkee Homosapien, DJ Qbert (Dr. frickin’ Octagon), Cool Kids, Ghostface Killah, Scarface, Tom Waits and Kool Keith, among others.

Hopefully I won't regret predicting that this will be the first truly tits-tacular record of 2009. If the rest of the songs are as as good as the single "Money", I'll be gloating and saying "I told ya bitchez!"

N.A.S.A. "Money" feat. David Byrne, Chuck D, Ras Congo, Seu Jorge, & Z-Trip from Paul Griswold on Vimeo.

FINALLY...GOOD NEWS!

Wow, the universe doesn't hate me after all! Within the last 24 hours I got word that I found a (part-time) job and a new Roomie to boot! Details...

For the last 8 months my older brother has been supplanting his income by working as a bouncer/doorman at 2 different bars (both owned by the same guy). Now that he no longer needs the extra money, he successfully talked the owner into passing the "torch" to yours truly!

Obviously, checking ID's and throwing drunk people out onto the street is not my dream job, but it's one that I am more than capable of (oh man, I cannot wait to bounce some douche bag wearing a neckerchief).

I won't get rich with this job, but it will certainly provide me with MUCH needed income, not to mention, I actually think working in a bar will be fun. It's practically my natural habitat after all. Even better, the laid back bartenders give my brother drinks and such, so, there is little downside, as far as I can see.

OK, now, more importantly...New Roomie is scheduled to leave for home next Tuesday. I can't believe it's been 5 months already, and although I will really, really miss him (we became super good friends) I am excited about my New New Roomie!

He's my age, presumably gay, a doctor (actually a Resident M.D.) and perhaps of greatest note....he's fucking SMOKIN' HAWT! Seriously, when he came to check the place out last week, I literally got lost in his eyes. Lame? Totally. But it's true.

That being said, I will maintain (to the best of my ability) a professional/platonic relationship. Even my over-sexed mind can anticipate the potential pitfalls of fucking my Roomie. However, as my bro's GF pointed out "he probably has really hot friends". I hope she's right. But the bottom line is, I found someone cool, responsible and...well, you get the idea.

Can a get a WOOT?

HAPPY MONDAY!

It's no secret that people HATE Mondays. Of course, since I don't currently have a job, everyday is pretty much the same. Kind of like that movie "Groundhog Day". So this post is dedicated to you hard working, industrious people out there.

I know video posts are lazy and only take about 30 seconds to put together, but this one is seriously worth 8 minutes of your life. "But Justin, this is probably just some lame ass music video!" Right, well, this should be an easy sell. I even made a handy equation:

HAWT Rugby Players + Copious Amounts of Alcohol = Guys getting naked/Kissing each together (with tongue)/Nipple Biting/Simulated Fellatio/Mutual masturbation. IN A BAR!

Although it's not a porno (seriously, it's a documentary) it's REALLY NSFW! Enjoy!

Generation Xcess Documentary
by biako06