Tuesday, August 10, 2004



Speaking of ghetto, holy shit, ah forget it.

Serially though, think dj mugs tattoos and an insane voracious appetite for crack meets an inexplicable bookstore attendant and his lovely concierge, except it’s a dogwalker convention, then you might get the drift. Prolly not.

So, uh, jurk storr. No no no. um. Wait, fuck, I gotta make a phone call, before the house falls on that witch. Werd. Hold up. Yah you. Yup. Chillinski.

Maybe I’m a Brandon ass bastard sword, but I find this pretty interesting. Just not interesting enough to actually go buy my own bandwidth or closet space or whatever you call internet real estate so I can host the mofo, ie if I made my own whatever radio show. But as far as like patrolling through other people’s radio blog or whatever the fuck it is and listening to their music, well, it’s like Christmas at the orphanage, except no drunk fake santa claus.

Oh yah bad santa is pretty funny speaking of that subject.

Ok I’m done being retarded, at least for the next 2 minutes.

In fact, I found a really nice raving (is that word legal anymore?) dj mix by, uh, dj jeed, which almost makes me feel like I’m on hardcore drugs. Not that I would know. I’m just saying, I saw a lifetime slash hbo special on the subject and it seemed like that, you know, all those crazy dancing hobos. Yup.

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