Saturday, October 25, 2008

Aphex Twin Sister

Last night, something happened to me that pretty much made my month, if not my whole quarter. I stopped into Wendy's for a quick french fry fix before the show, got bumped into, and spilled the entire contents of my medium drink directly into some broad's purse.

It was the lady's own damn fault. Like many females of a certain age common to the tri-state region, she was overweight, unattractive/slovenly in appearance, and had multiple sweatpants-clad children in tow. She talked very loudly, had a difficult order, and treated the staff poorly. She was just offensive by any definition of the word.

Anyhow, as I'm picking my tray up off of the counter, one of the kids bumped into her right side, sending her left side into my right arm. It gave out, and I watched with fascination as the cup slowly fell towards the edge of the counter. When it hit, the top popped off, and a glorious spray of amber fluid and ice cubes commenced. I couldn't help but smirk.

For a second, she looked as if she might yell at me, but since I was dressed in all black and have a surly demeanor, I think she thought better off it.

Karma is a bitch. More so, if you happen to be a bitch.

-----

Quick shout out and thanks to The Chuck, who now can be considered my number 1 fan, having been to an astounding three, count 'em, three, shows of mine. This is the most shows of mine ever attended by someone I am not fucking, was fucking, or had the intention, at some point, of fucking. Thanks Chuck.

Here is a picture of Chuck:


There are literally thousands of pictures of him on his Myspace. It wood be kind of freaky, if he wasn't so awesome. Chuck definitely marches to the beat of his own drummer. That drummer is probably a bit slow, and has only played the drums for a day or two, but still. I'm stoked that in this day and age, people like Chuck, who search for nothing more than a good time and a break from the norm, still exist. I'm happy to have him as a fan, and as a friend.

So yeah, where in the blue fuck were the rest of you sons a bitches yesterday? It doesn't even matter, because I am fucking unstoppable. I managed to make it into the finals, scoring decent on the judge's cards, but WINNING the audience vote. Mind you, only Chuck and his boy Rizzo showed up specifically to see me. This means that thirteen other people(out of twenty) thought enough of me to put a checkmark by or circle my name on a ballot. I was stoked beyond words on this. So excited.

I know you bastards are coming to the finals. "Mona Lisa Tim" Dimond will be there as his alter-ego, Travis Walling. Travis, you should've come out yesterday man. You should've come out! No one actually brought five people.

Additional props go out to Sean Rush. Last night was only the second time I've ever seen him, but I really like his stuff.

People seem to forget that The Strokes are one of the only bands that can put up the "ultra cool" front and actually make it work. This is because they're actually ultra cool. The guitar solo in this song is so good that Jesus Christ Himself would learn it and use it to impress college freshmen from rural Ohio after He's gotten them drunk on Milwaukee's Best Light.


The Killers are also really, really good. They don't get enough credit for the strength of the material they put out. Great albums, if a little cliched and heavily "influenced." This song makes me think of summer vacations and throwing rocks at Metra trains. Like Springsteen fronting the world's best Duran Duran cover band. The Killers are worth seeing live.


It's 6 o'clock in the morning. I don't get out of here until 9. I'm gonna need the hopes and prayers of millions. I want sleep like I want pussy, i.e. I'll take what I can get, when and if I can get it.

People talk about stylized violence like it's a bad thing or something. They've obviously never seen The Warriors.


When the song comes on.-BK

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