Kiss It Manhattan.
This may be the beginning of the end. All of Good Times Roll's faithful readers who tune in daily for something entertaining or half assed witty, are up shit creek without a paddle. I say this because the internet can now be accessed from my apartment which means that each and everyone of you will be privy to my ranting and raving while intoxication prevents me and my better judgment from just crashing out. I apologize now, and appreciate all of your reading while you did.
So time to move on.
Sorry to leave you hanging on this most holy of Thursdays. Ok, today wasn't holy. Yesterday was the day set aside for Christ. Not only was it Ash Wednesday (meaning the beginning of Lent for you non-Christians), but it was also the opening day for Mel Gibson's directorial masterpiece, The Passion of the Christ. Instead of wasting my time at mass with the rest of the disillusioned Catholics, I used a Sharpie marker to put the sign of the cross on my forehead. Maybe I didn't, but the idea struck me as clever.
Let me clue you in on what really went down yesterday. Following an afternoon of the slowest work possible, I came home in hopes of getting some work done before a few kids showed up to watch the O.C. from the comforts of my living room. Much to my dismay, no work was completed. This has become a debilitating habit. Each and everyday I contemplate the evening's projected accomplishments only to realize, a few hours later, that these are so far out of my grasp, that they are more difficult than getting Paul to fondle someone of legal age.
Anyway, the O.C. PotLuck was put on hold because of my anticipated hasty exit. Following a killer episode in which we discovered that Luke and his x-girlfriend's mom are fucking on a regular basis, we, meaning Karen and I made a B-line for the Bowery Ballroom. But before I go there, allow me to digress on the happenings at 186.
Mikey was the first kat to show up. After watching Dan Rather plow through the perils of our world, Mike and I got excited for what was to come. Builder rolled in prior to the appearance of Sivan and Karen. Once the girls showed up, we decided that Tiny's would be the joint where we would make our dinner scene. Megan, Miriam and Kyle trickled in, and the stage was set. We tossed a huge order by way of the Tiny's Giant sandwich shop, and settled in for a solid episode from the geniuses at Fox.
So Luke is fucking Julie. Marissa can't get Ryan to go down her pants. Seth loves emo. Summer loves Seth. No one loves Anna. And Sandy Cohen might be the coolest man ever.
Yum Nurr.
Anyway, Karen and I bolted after the close of the show. We made it to the Bowery just in time to see the last few songs from the NYC based the Fever. I'm not gonna waste my time on these guys. They are pretty good, but nothing to special. Karen said it best when she claimed that they were too busy as a whole. It just came off as confusing, but they played a couple tracks that are danceable and more than tolerable.
During the change over, we went downstairs to catch up with Noah, Beach and Daylen. No one seemed to be really excited about the show, but I was interested to see if Jason and the gang could pull off their gritty rock sound, especially after he got his face bashed in by Mr. White.
The Detroit foursome took to the stage and ripped through Lack of Communication which may be my favorite Von Bondies song. That was it. The load was shot, but they managed to keep my attention for the next hour. They played a lot of great tunes from the record of the same name, along with some new songs and the single, C'mon C'mon. The Von Bondies have a great feel, but it's tough to see where they would fit into the grand scheme of things. Hopefully they will find their niche and figure out a way to stick around.
Today was a waste, but I did manage to get a killer tuna melt. This was hours after I made the best pancakes in the world for Ms. Correa and myself. For those of you who may be left in the dark, buy yourself some chocolate chips and bananas and call it a fucking day.
This afternoon I made my way up to Bside where Sivan and Willis were behind the bar. Hole, Mike and Carlos all shared in the afternoon festivities, and eventually Stevo showed up to play some pool. Cami rolled through to hang out and talk about her impending sickness, but hopefully we helped her shake it. Tonight was a good time, and now I'm at home with the roommates fighting the urge to sit in on a session with the help of a bottle of wine given to me by Christie.
This drunk update thing could be a lot of fun. Or not. Go ahead and tell me to fuck off if it is well warranted.
This may be the beginning of the end. All of Good Times Roll's faithful readers who tune in daily for something entertaining or half assed witty, are up shit creek without a paddle. I say this because the internet can now be accessed from my apartment which means that each and everyone of you will be privy to my ranting and raving while intoxication prevents me and my better judgment from just crashing out. I apologize now, and appreciate all of your reading while you did.
So time to move on.
Sorry to leave you hanging on this most holy of Thursdays. Ok, today wasn't holy. Yesterday was the day set aside for Christ. Not only was it Ash Wednesday (meaning the beginning of Lent for you non-Christians), but it was also the opening day for Mel Gibson's directorial masterpiece, The Passion of the Christ. Instead of wasting my time at mass with the rest of the disillusioned Catholics, I used a Sharpie marker to put the sign of the cross on my forehead. Maybe I didn't, but the idea struck me as clever.
Let me clue you in on what really went down yesterday. Following an afternoon of the slowest work possible, I came home in hopes of getting some work done before a few kids showed up to watch the O.C. from the comforts of my living room. Much to my dismay, no work was completed. This has become a debilitating habit. Each and everyday I contemplate the evening's projected accomplishments only to realize, a few hours later, that these are so far out of my grasp, that they are more difficult than getting Paul to fondle someone of legal age.
Anyway, the O.C. PotLuck was put on hold because of my anticipated hasty exit. Following a killer episode in which we discovered that Luke and his x-girlfriend's mom are fucking on a regular basis, we, meaning Karen and I made a B-line for the Bowery Ballroom. But before I go there, allow me to digress on the happenings at 186.
Mikey was the first kat to show up. After watching Dan Rather plow through the perils of our world, Mike and I got excited for what was to come. Builder rolled in prior to the appearance of Sivan and Karen. Once the girls showed up, we decided that Tiny's would be the joint where we would make our dinner scene. Megan, Miriam and Kyle trickled in, and the stage was set. We tossed a huge order by way of the Tiny's Giant sandwich shop, and settled in for a solid episode from the geniuses at Fox.
So Luke is fucking Julie. Marissa can't get Ryan to go down her pants. Seth loves emo. Summer loves Seth. No one loves Anna. And Sandy Cohen might be the coolest man ever.
Yum Nurr.
Anyway, Karen and I bolted after the close of the show. We made it to the Bowery just in time to see the last few songs from the NYC based the Fever. I'm not gonna waste my time on these guys. They are pretty good, but nothing to special. Karen said it best when she claimed that they were too busy as a whole. It just came off as confusing, but they played a couple tracks that are danceable and more than tolerable.
During the change over, we went downstairs to catch up with Noah, Beach and Daylen. No one seemed to be really excited about the show, but I was interested to see if Jason and the gang could pull off their gritty rock sound, especially after he got his face bashed in by Mr. White.
The Detroit foursome took to the stage and ripped through Lack of Communication which may be my favorite Von Bondies song. That was it. The load was shot, but they managed to keep my attention for the next hour. They played a lot of great tunes from the record of the same name, along with some new songs and the single, C'mon C'mon. The Von Bondies have a great feel, but it's tough to see where they would fit into the grand scheme of things. Hopefully they will find their niche and figure out a way to stick around.
Today was a waste, but I did manage to get a killer tuna melt. This was hours after I made the best pancakes in the world for Ms. Correa and myself. For those of you who may be left in the dark, buy yourself some chocolate chips and bananas and call it a fucking day.
This afternoon I made my way up to Bside where Sivan and Willis were behind the bar. Hole, Mike and Carlos all shared in the afternoon festivities, and eventually Stevo showed up to play some pool. Cami rolled through to hang out and talk about her impending sickness, but hopefully we helped her shake it. Tonight was a good time, and now I'm at home with the roommates fighting the urge to sit in on a session with the help of a bottle of wine given to me by Christie.
This drunk update thing could be a lot of fun. Or not. Go ahead and tell me to fuck off if it is well warranted.
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