stab me with a knife made of pure fun.
magnetic signatures are frozen into every new being on earth.
party friday: met the 'rents downtown for a drink, went to check out amy's new place in pioneer square. its an amazing ly huge loft with two exposed brick walls. amy is simply amazing. being around her humbles me. after hanging for a few, i walked up the hill to the dizzee rascal show. diz came out in this huge 5x jimi hendrix tshirt, reppin for the big northwest. WORD. he was so good and he played everything i wanted him to ("fix up look sharp," "i love you," "dream," "learn," everything), but the crowd-- most of them anyway-- sucked my gangreene infested labia. i was trying to dance, jumping around like a retarded pig that just got stabbed in the jugular, and so many people were all "umm, excuse me, you're stepping on my toes," "umm, excuse me, this is like the fifth time you've bumped into me." and i'm all "umm, excuse me, but this is like the fifth time i ejaculated in your mom's crude snatch!" well no i didn't say that. but here's what i'm thinking: if yr feet ain't feelin it, then you ain't feelin it, and if you ain't feelin it, get off the dance floor. it is called a dance floor after all, and if you can't learn to SHAKE THAT HONEY-BAKED HAM (especially at a hiphop show), then you are welcome to go sit in the balcony or the back of the crowd. it comes with the territory. dancing is not a sin. didn't you people see "footloose?" if i ever stop dancing the way i wanna dance, if i ever get self-conscious about moving it at a show, i invite you to shoot me in the back of the head, execution style.
at the show, i ran into this kid sean that i had met at the strangers show in san fransisco. wierd! we had fun times driving around after the show, being generally bad kids, and he was nice enough to drop me at home.
quiet saturday: did nothing all day. i felt like shit from all of the previous night's activities, and didn't do a damn thing until i went to rochelle's going-away party at around midnight. rochelle is a coworker with erin and max, and she's moving to ellensburg. i wish her best of luck, but i already miss her. i don't even know her that well, but i have to say that she is one of the biggest sweethearts and most genuine people i've met in the past year.
after that i wen't to max's, where david arrived drunker and beligerenter than i've ever seen anyone. he was throwing up on the back porch and yelling obscenities for hours.
then i worked. and worked. and worked. i'm so tired.
party friday: met the 'rents downtown for a drink, went to check out amy's new place in pioneer square. its an amazing ly huge loft with two exposed brick walls. amy is simply amazing. being around her humbles me. after hanging for a few, i walked up the hill to the dizzee rascal show. diz came out in this huge 5x jimi hendrix tshirt, reppin for the big northwest. WORD. he was so good and he played everything i wanted him to ("fix up look sharp," "i love you," "dream," "learn," everything), but the crowd-- most of them anyway-- sucked my gangreene infested labia. i was trying to dance, jumping around like a retarded pig that just got stabbed in the jugular, and so many people were all "umm, excuse me, you're stepping on my toes," "umm, excuse me, this is like the fifth time you've bumped into me." and i'm all "umm, excuse me, but this is like the fifth time i ejaculated in your mom's crude snatch!" well no i didn't say that. but here's what i'm thinking: if yr feet ain't feelin it, then you ain't feelin it, and if you ain't feelin it, get off the dance floor. it is called a dance floor after all, and if you can't learn to SHAKE THAT HONEY-BAKED HAM (especially at a hiphop show), then you are welcome to go sit in the balcony or the back of the crowd. it comes with the territory. dancing is not a sin. didn't you people see "footloose?" if i ever stop dancing the way i wanna dance, if i ever get self-conscious about moving it at a show, i invite you to shoot me in the back of the head, execution style.
at the show, i ran into this kid sean that i had met at the strangers show in san fransisco. wierd! we had fun times driving around after the show, being generally bad kids, and he was nice enough to drop me at home.
quiet saturday: did nothing all day. i felt like shit from all of the previous night's activities, and didn't do a damn thing until i went to rochelle's going-away party at around midnight. rochelle is a coworker with erin and max, and she's moving to ellensburg. i wish her best of luck, but i already miss her. i don't even know her that well, but i have to say that she is one of the biggest sweethearts and most genuine people i've met in the past year.
after that i wen't to max's, where david arrived drunker and beligerenter than i've ever seen anyone. he was throwing up on the back porch and yelling obscenities for hours.
then i worked. and worked. and worked. i'm so tired.