M-A-R-S...Mars, bitches!
if you should ever venture into the cyberstation arcade that's located in the food court at the carousel mall, and see "J M D" 7 times among Dance Dance Revolution Extreme's top 10 list of all time, it's not a coincidence.
Interpol concert was thursday night in niagara falls. i went with ms. stage, her roommate liz, vic and matt. it was good times. i hadn't seen jess since the summer so it was good to see her again. the concert was like 20 min away and it was a blast. during the concert, i got accosted with a flying leather jacket, temporarily blinded in the left eye with a digital camera flash...ahem, gave the proverbial middle finger to security by calmly untaping a "interpol march 10th" poster off one of the columns, almost fainted on by a 6'2" female and made eye contact with lead singer paul banks a record breaking 67 times. they played "specialist" which was on my top 10 all time "bitchingest" songs.
i saw identity for the first time last night, and all i have to say is what a fucking cop-out. seriously, thats the pussiest way to end a movie. if it was a REAL psychological thriller, it would have intertwined some funky shit rather that coming up with that bullshit excuse for everything tying together.
after that i caught cabin fever. not literally, that wouldn't work...but the movie. i remember being shown certain revealing parts of the movie by a friend of mine about a year ago, and this time i caught the whole thing. fuck shawn from boy meets world and fuck that blonde wigged kid on the swinging chair.
finally, i'd like to say how pissed i am at a certain phenomenon that has been happening the past 2 years, but never happened before that. picture this. its 3am and the low fuel light in the car comes on. outside, its a balmy -15 degrees centigrade. you pull up to the local red apple/kwik fill and choose the cheapest shit possible. the goal is to pump gas as fast as humanly possible and get back into the friendly confines of senor dodge intrepid. you undo the gas cap, remove nozzle, lift handle, and insert. you firmly pull the trigger for optimum gasoline release. but theres one problem.
*click*
full power
*click*
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT. seriously, its fucking colder than a witch's tit out here and im halfwaying this fucking nozzle??!?! thats total shit. i have no idea why it does it, but it never used to, and its not just isolated gas stations, its an epidemic sweeping the entire northeast proper. whatever the f'ing problem is, someone needs to come up with a invention to cut that shit out, because ive had about enough of it.
Interpol concert was thursday night in niagara falls. i went with ms. stage, her roommate liz, vic and matt. it was good times. i hadn't seen jess since the summer so it was good to see her again. the concert was like 20 min away and it was a blast. during the concert, i got accosted with a flying leather jacket, temporarily blinded in the left eye with a digital camera flash...ahem, gave the proverbial middle finger to security by calmly untaping a "interpol march 10th" poster off one of the columns, almost fainted on by a 6'2" female and made eye contact with lead singer paul banks a record breaking 67 times. they played "specialist" which was on my top 10 all time "bitchingest" songs.
i saw identity for the first time last night, and all i have to say is what a fucking cop-out. seriously, thats the pussiest way to end a movie. if it was a REAL psychological thriller, it would have intertwined some funky shit rather that coming up with that bullshit excuse for everything tying together.
after that i caught cabin fever. not literally, that wouldn't work...but the movie. i remember being shown certain revealing parts of the movie by a friend of mine about a year ago, and this time i caught the whole thing. fuck shawn from boy meets world and fuck that blonde wigged kid on the swinging chair.
finally, i'd like to say how pissed i am at a certain phenomenon that has been happening the past 2 years, but never happened before that. picture this. its 3am and the low fuel light in the car comes on. outside, its a balmy -15 degrees centigrade. you pull up to the local red apple/kwik fill and choose the cheapest shit possible. the goal is to pump gas as fast as humanly possible and get back into the friendly confines of senor dodge intrepid. you undo the gas cap, remove nozzle, lift handle, and insert. you firmly pull the trigger for optimum gasoline release. but theres one problem.
*click*
full power
*click*
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT. seriously, its fucking colder than a witch's tit out here and im halfwaying this fucking nozzle??!?! thats total shit. i have no idea why it does it, but it never used to, and its not just isolated gas stations, its an epidemic sweeping the entire northeast proper. whatever the f'ing problem is, someone needs to come up with a invention to cut that shit out, because ive had about enough of it.