Lets Be Professional For A Second...

I haven't written on here in forever. Have no urge to. Too busy with shit to even if I had the urge to. But, anyway, where to begin...

Heart Shaped Taco. I was coming up with idea names for a production company, and that's what came out of my demented mind. Right now I own heartshapedtaco.com. As of this moment, that address forwards you to this blog for lack of a better thing to do with it. Scott wants to use that name for a shirt company that he's been wanting to do with me for years. Thing is, the only time we got the courage to go through with it, it involved me trying to buy Goolsby's shirt press off of him, and him never getting back to me when he decided to sell it and I made an offer on Scott and I's desire to buy it off him. But whatever. I have C.J. "PandaFresh" Ruiz, hopefully, drawing up a logo as we speak. What am I gonna do with it? I dunno. Maybe ask J.V. to do a Wolf Print limited run of t-shirts with that design on it until I come up with something better to do with my time and money.

Why did I even start thinking up this name and thinking of "production company" nonsense? Well, I decided to start posting concert photos on a Flickr account and have intentions of selling prints of them. Right now, some of them are up at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ramystein/sets/

Nothing too exciting right now. The real gems are stashed away in an old shoe box, sitting in some nether region of one of my bedroom closets. A shit-ton of photos of the Misfits and Mister Monster from the mid-to late 90s as well as some other horror themed punk bands I snapped photos of over the years I would sneak into clubs with a disposable camera down my pants. Well, they weren't always like that, some places let you take pictures and that's when my digital camera would come out.

But who cares. If anyone wants a print of some of the shittier shot pictures I have up now, get at me. I need to make an @heartshapedtaco.com email so I don't give out my shit to weirdos I don't need hitting up my personal email, but for now leave a comment on this, or text me if you have my cell phone #. If not, I dunno... fuck a duck.

Wiki Bombing: II

I know, I know, it's been a while since I did anything, let alone this, but I just haven't felt like writing shit anymore. I haven't filmed any hijinx in forever. I haven't really done much either. Wait, that's a lie. I fucked up my car last night due to poor decisions. But what can you say when you're killing off bottles of rumple minz and chasing it back with vodka sodas? You'd probably say something like "you have problems," but you're not writing this, are you?



Anyway, if you haven't figured out by now, I have a, lets say, distaste for Facebook. Of course, when I heard there is going to be a movie about the creation of Facebook, I almost vomited in disgust and disbelief that Hollywood has officially scraped the bottom of the proverbial ideas barrel. While I'm on it, it sickens me that there is a sketch group dedicated to Facebook. Paul Sheer and Rob Huebel, I am ashamed, sirs! But yea, here is my take on what the wikipedia SHOULD say for this page (via me vandalising it) and yet another reason Wikipedia is going to ban my computer at work from ever being able to edit it's website from here again:

(If you click on it, it will get biggerer and yous can reads it betters)

Upon re-reading it just now, I realize I made some spelling and gramatical errors... but do not care cause I'm sure it's already reverted back to what it was before I got my mits on it.

(F)ART

So, I don't get a lot of days to myself. Usually I spend them jerking off and watching shitty movies and/or playing Call of Duty all day until I get a phone call or text to meet up so-and-so to go get all kinds of Jean Claude Van Damme roundhouse kicks to the face kind of drunk.

This week I decided to clean up my room that's been in shambles since I moved back to NY from Jersey (Yes, I am that lazy that it's taken me THIS long to start to clean shit up). Anyway, I stumbled upon some interesting stuff. Top of the list is a Derek Jeter rookie card I found in titty mint condition. Other shit, that I can deal parting with, I'm throwing up on ebay.

Anyway, I found some old "art" from my last 2 years of high school. Basically art requirements are nonsense like sculpture, photography, and my senior year was the first year they offered graphic design. I think all but one of the sculpture pieces I did got smashed in some drunken baboonery involving my friends and I. I convinced TJ to take pottery with me cause the school forced him to take an art class because he had too many free periods in 11th grade. He hated me for it, but we had some laughs. I also recall having problems with some over weight wanna be ghetto asian girl who looked like she ate Godzilla. Not that I so much had problems with her as that she would call me a satanist at any given moment and go off on me about how I was going to hell (apparently all you had to have was black hair and a Danzig t-shirt to be called a Satanist non-stop back in those days... I don't think much has changed, but whatever).

That is ONE thing I made in sculpture class (to the right) I think was stable enough to be tossed around like the town whore and didn't break due to stupidity. What is it? I have no fucking clue. I just started chiseling at it until I realized I was shaping a head... then from there I made some mongoloid shaped humanoid out of the damn thing. My teacher thought I meant for it to be of Elephant Man proportions.

Photography was a joke to me too. It involved me and a large group of my friends spending the entire class throwing shit at each other's heads in the dark room and making up excuses that we were cutting class to go "explore the world through our lenses". I would sarcastically take pictures of the corners of my room and angle them all weird cause I thought all that photography was, was a bunch of retards taking weird angles of every day shit (ironically, the sarcastic shots I took were always the ones that got put on display in the school galleries). Basically I took photography class to get free film (remember that shit?) so that I didn't have to pay for it when I'd go to take pictures at shows. I still have some of the prints lying around here in a binder too (which reminds me, I need to find my box of photos from concerts. I better have not forgot it in Jersey, cause lord knows I'll never see them again if that's the case).

Here's a shot from the pit at a Mister Monster show from either a show in December of 2000 or January of 2001. This was put on display for some reason in a gallery by my school (obviously I didn't even take the picture and I don't know how I got away with claiming this shot as my own work). You can see how messy and unkempt my hair was after I butchered it all off. Besides my nappy ass hair, the shot includes J~Sin's arm putting the mic into the crowd for the sing-a-long part of the song Resident Evil. There's Riz to the right (all I remember about that kid was he wanted to be the bassist of Mister Monster and he lived down the street from Steve Zing). To the right of my face is Ox's head, and also, I believe that's Germs' nose between Riz and Ox's heads. The shot was from a show at this place that weeks before we went there, unaware I'd be coming back there a few weeks later, me, Dennis and George drove by the place as I mooned the entire line outside the club one night when we were bored as shit and decided to just go joy riding around Manhattan. I think the main reason we did so was cause we went in the Ford Expedition his family got right around the time that SUV first came out and was the hot shit on the streets. Obviously we were feeling QUITE baller that night. Baller enough for me to expose my bulbous, pasty white ass to a crowd of unsuspecting strangers. Thank God nothing horrible happened.

Another shot I found was a self portrait that had my friends laughing their asses off when I developed it. Too bad I sucked at developing pictures and this one came out too light... or proves that I need to put some color in my skin.

I call this one "Duh", or possibly, "dur". Some fruit cake I ended up getting into altercations with tried making a fake guitar pedal called the "goth blood pedal" or something equally retarded in name, and used this photo as the logo... I hope that kid gets run over by a steam roller, where ever his waste of life has taken him.

Graphic Design was another class I'd fuck around in. My teacher hated me. Well, maybe not me, but my taste in humor and art. I can't find the picture, but I recall we had to free-hand draw something, scan it, and then enhance it with photoshop by outlining it and then coloring it in. I drew Jason Vorhees dripping in blood and wielding a machete. She yelled at me to not make him so violent. I sarcastically asked her "would you prefer I have him holding a bouquet of posies?" She just gave me a dirty look and told me to fix it up or she'd give me an F, so I just erased the machete all together. Fucking censorship.

But yea, here's some ones I did find mildly entertaining:

I think this assignment was to make a movie poster and cast our own cast. I chose to make the Spawn movie and have Tiger Woods in the lead role. It could have been great... or of devastating levels equal to that of Tommy Wiseau's The Room.

This one was that we had to design a trading card package. I made Wolverine trading cards, "Only $1.50 Bub"

The backside, that is upside down in this scan, said:

"Legal mumbo jumbo: Wolverine and anything in his image is (c)opyrighted to Marvel Entertainment Inc.

RAMY(tm) and Ramy Card Company Inc. are not really (c)opyrighted... But you could imagine."

The barcode also had some comic nerd references for the code atop the bars, but I doubt anyone cares THAT much.

Here, we were asked to design a CD booklet and back cover. Here's the cover and the page you'd see when you opened the CD case. I designed a Mister Monster live album. All I did was take screen shots from the original and 1990's remake of the Night of the Living Dead movies and slap on some photos of Mister Monster live from some dump bar called Desmond's that was downtown. All I remember about that bar was it was packed with dudes in suits getting drunk and singing along, off-key to Nirvana songs (if that's even possible to sing off key) which would clear out once all the goth and death rock kids would show up to see the horror rock bands play.

...my teacher wasn't too pleased that every other photo included someone covered in blood or a zombie devouring someone (wait, EVERY page included the previous mentioned statement).

And yea, that's about some of the last times I ever attempted to show my artistic spirit to the public any more.

Great Night Followed by Shitty Morning

This weekend has been great. I got a framed picture of a painting done by Dave Brockie that he signed "Oderus" (he's Oderus Urungus from Gwar for those of you not in the know). Why? Cause him and Mike Derks in his Ballsac the Jaws of Death persona were in Brooklyn the past 2 nights hosting the Crack-A-Thon. It was a little art show/hosting show of sorts? I dunno. It was basically an excuse for the two of them to blase obnoxious mock-German techno and interview whoever their guest per showing was. I went with Jared and Desiree. Of course, out of all the cool people they mentioned they already had as guests and all the guest coming the day after, we get gypt. They talked with Lloyd Kaufman, creator of the Toxic Avenger, and some dude dressed up as Toxie (read that as it apparently was just Lloyd and Oderus Urungus mocking each other the entire hour), they prank called Jello Biafra, they had Jamey Jasta come (not like I even like Hatebreed or anything) and they were having Andrew WK come to play piano and some other shit the next night (not that I care about Andrew WK, but I'm sure his antics would be amusing).

Who did we have? This girl whose name was something like Reverend Jen? I don't remember. Also, I had met her before. YEARS ago, when Dennis was interning with that Anarchy/Comedy Troupe who went by the name Toolz of the New School (remember those Guliani is a Jerk stickers? Yea, they made those... I think TJ still has that sticker on his bass... if he still has his bass). She still wears those fucking troll ears and talks all retarded sounding like a troll too. I think the only highlights of the night with her were when they guy working the projector put up a picture of her house (she's a big troll doll collector or something) and Oderus Urungus looked at the picture and goes "I wouldn't wanna fucking live there." When she asked why, he responded "it looks like someone wiped their ass all over your walls." The other part was, when she was reading a passage from her book that she wrote (which is basically abouse sexually depraved incident after sexually depraved incident), the phrase "3 un-princess like orgasms" was introduced to my vocabulary. OH YEA, and how can I forget this litle gem of stupidity pulled by Brockie. This girl was droning on about God knows what, and Brockie just falls, face first onto the floor, smashing through his mock interviewing table. People didn't know what to do, and as Jen, or whever the fuck that freak bitch's name was, starts to help him up, Derks just goes "don't help him, he falls all the time."

Fast forward to not getting the re-release of Sick of it All's first 7" or any of Pantera's re-releases on vinyl because unlike normal people, I work on weekends and get fucked in the long run as usual. What I'm trying to say in my half witted, barely sober mind is that shit was sold out and the girl behind the counter sarcastically told me "you're like, 8 hours late for that, dude." I looked at her, brow furrowing, and retorted back with, "Yea, you see, some of us have to work on weekends, if you're capable of realizing the fact you yourself are working right now. I couldn't make it. There's none left?" But, of course, I already knew the answer was no. Fucker.

Oh, and me in a good mood, you ask? How can I forget I found xanadu? Where you ask? Kate's in the east village. Jaerd and Desiree introduced me to the place. I've heard the name a million times, but I couldn't figure out why. It is a bar, with an all vegetarian/vegan menu, and I was then informed while eating, that this is the place Danzig throws all his post-NYC concert after parties. Sir, I don't think I have to inform you that the mixture of booze, good eating and Danzig make me as happy as a bear rolling in a bathtub full of porridge. I ordered this thing called the McKate. If you couldn't tell by the "Mc" in the title, it was their answer to McDonalds. BUt what? It was a fucking vegan Big Mac. Dude, not only was it amazingly awesome to the max, but it was amazingly awesome to the max. I need to go to that place as much as possible. I may just start showing up to Jared's unexpected like a fucking crack head just as an excuse to go there more... that or find someone else besides him and Desiree who wouldn't mind eating there and getting drunk.

Oh, and last night, I don't even remember most of it. I remember meeting up Dan later, then Ken met us up. Ken is GONE already from hanging out with these scum he knows. They keep feeding him shots, and finally Dan tells him to stop taking shots and get some coffee. Scott at this point is taking shots of tequila away from Ken and it dawns upon me that Scott is already a few gin and sodas in and then there was that vicodin... and I just say to myself I better not have to lug his dumb ass around in a few hours. No, no. I was the idiot this night. I don't remeber much. We went to the dreg bar across the street from where we were and Scott is ordering us shots of tequila. More tequila. And then some more tequila. Doubles of vodka soda and tequila is all that's in me. Maybe a slice or cheese too? I can't remember. I don't recall eating anything yesterday since whenever it was I went across the street to get lunch/have an excuse to oogle at the boobs on the girl who works there (Yes, I'm a classy mother fucker). But yea, where was I? Oh yea, so, Romil eventually meets us up after his date to say what's up before he goes home since he was in the area. At this point, I'm so drunk I'm opening the top of the tank to the toilet bowl in the bar and pissing in it, so when people flush, more piss comes out. Why I did this, I dunno. Maybe cause I thought it would be funny to do an upper decker, but couldn't muster up a turd, so I decided the consolation prize I'd give them was a tank full of piss. Yes, fucking tequila. I see Romil and all I really remember was hugging him and apologizing for I don't even remember what. Possibly for being an idiot? Who knows. You could tell Romil wanted to tell Dan or Scott to take my keys away from me, but if you just knew none of us were capable of driving so whatever.

The night ended with the Scott, Dan and I walking aimlessly looking for the car, as Dan is yelling at the two of us that not only did we walk a circle in the wrong direction trying to find the bar, but we can't even find my car, after I texted myself the corner it was near knowing I would forget where I parked it. Finally find it and head uptown to Inwood to drop off Dan. Instead, we go to Fidel's to get food. I stay in the car while Dan and Scott run in to grab some grub. As Dan and Scott were coming out, they were horrified to see me, standing in the street, dick just hanging out of my pants, as I am pissing all over the place and Dan just looks at me and goes "OH COME ON! Fuck this, I'm going home, talk to you later," and stormed off into that gentle night.

Scott eventually got in the car and we're such messes we just shoved food in our mouths like neanderthals. I'm sure if you were there, all you'd hear was grunting and heavy breathing as we ate the fuck out of our food. All else I recall was me driving with one eye open and then waking up this morning not remembering how I got to my bed... or home for that matter.

Writing this, it makes me think that I should compile a book of my best tequila fused stories and publish it with the title "The Tequila Cronicles". I mean, Hunter S. Thompson had the Rum Diary, why can't I have this? Yes? I figure if I did go through with it, it would just mean I'd go to Scott's, kill off that bottle of Montezuma Tequila I bought as a half-joke, and then go out and bring my Flip with me so even if I get black out drunk, the flip will catch the majority of myh antics. Maybe I should. I could write off my bar tabs as a business expense, right? Someone needs to get on my ass about this, cause if you know me, you know I am one lazy mother fucker.

Old Man Ramy

So, I am MC Hammer kinds of broke and am too down and out to head out tonight, so, like a loser with no friends in high school, I am spending my saturday night playing video games and watching tv... and wondering why I cannot fall asleep (might have something to do with some pills I took earlier that warn not to take in the evening because it will cause restlessness).

SO, here goes some rantings that you'd expect from an old man... but I'm not that old, so deal with it. (if it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure I'll end up looking like a mix between Old Man Logan and Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino if I actually live long enough)....

First of all, is it just me, or are PSA commercials getting lamer as I get older? I grew up with shit like "This is your brain on drugs..." and "I'm not a chicken, you're a turkey!" Now it's shit like don't get into sexting with your boyfriend and, the new one I just saw tonight, "don't text and drive, it can wait." I dunno, maybe Scott is right and I should open my own driving school to teach people not to go crashing their car from being on the phone/texting... I mean how is it I've gone this long with pulling off shit like driving a manual transmission while smoking a cigarette AND texting all at the same time? Jedi-like reflexes? I dunno.

Another thing... a Polish president died and I am yet to hear one Polish joke dealing with planes crashing and their leader. Come on now people. During the 2008 election, Obama wasn't even officially elected president yet by the time I had gotten a swarm of black/president jokes texted to me up the wahzoo. Ok, so I heard ONE joke so far, but I mean come on, "How many Polish people does it take to crash a plane? A: One president", really?

Speaking of this current event, has anyone noticed on American news casts, whenever something "serious" like this president crashing, the guy who does the monologue over the visuals of people crying and what have you is 99.9% of the time a British dude. Why is that? Do we think "oh, British sounds serious and dignified?" Well sirs and madams, I give you this:

and, looking for that video just made me realize Youtube now has that stupid "likes it" option ala Facebook. Really, are people that retarded that we have to go from a 5 star points system to fucking mongoloid facebook ranking statuses? I've said it before and I'll say it again, that website is horrible. Yea, I'm probably just saying it cause I went to school with that html coding thief who "created" Facebook and didn't like him, but shut up. Another good idea scott had, is to rent out a bar and throw the most hedonistic, ancient Rome/Greece, tits and booze flying everywhere, celebration the day that website goes up in flames.

and I am so not looking forward to that queermo, Justin Beiber, being on SNL in a few moments. I just know there's gonna be a skit or two that integrates him into it. People need to learn he is horrible... about as horrible as Facebook. What is wrong with people? They play that shit at bars, and Miley Cyrus. Are people 21 and over that fucking dim-witted that we have to listen to SHIT at a bar? It's bad enough I was subjected to wanna-be guidos on top of each other last night, but to have to be subjected to these miscreants of society AND beyond absolute zero of horridness? Apparently so.

I dunno, I'm sure there's more I wanna rant about, but SNL is on and I'm gonna go watch it until I eventually pass the fuck out. Maybe I'll continue with my rantings tomorrow... at work... when there's nothing to do... which is always... because my job sucks and I am too much of a lazy fucking bum to do anything about it to better my life... cause I like to bitch and moan and am a giant slacker... like so big a slacker my picture should be in the dictionary next to that word... and I'm gonna go now... seriously.

My Bad Luck With Cars and a Funny Tale of Jeff's

So, I dunno what the fuck is up with people lately. Maybe I'm just having bad luck with yet another thing, cars.

So, the usual daily driver I've been driving is basically done for. I got a Camry to replace the old Chrysler as my daily driver. But, here's the thing. I almost got hit or run off the road several times since I got this damn thing.

Day one. Nothing too bad. Well, on my drive to the DMV to switch the plates from the Chrysler to the Camry, I bore witness to a Taxi nail right into some moron driving an Impala who may or may not have ran a red light and smashed right in front of me. The Impala spun a good 90 degrees upon impact. The weirdest thing of all, though? There was no dents, not even a scratch that I could tell on either car. I mean, I didn't stay long to check since I had to swerve around the two cars and get around any other oncoming cars so I didn't get into an accident myself.

Nothing else really happened that day. WELL, I went to the NY Auto Show and realized it was quite possibly THE WORST car show held by them that I have ever been witness to. There was barely any cars there, and the cars that were there sucked. That, and all the animals of New York seemed to be there taking pictures and videos of themselves in luxury cars. On the ride home I did however have to slam on the breaks and swerve because a deer lunged right in front of me. I'm sure the neighbors enjoyed me honking the horn and cursing out a fucking deer at 2 in the morning, though.

Today, thought, was horrendous with horrible close calls and other road side oddities. Lets see, where to start. Oh yes, at around 7:15am, a short bus literally ran me off the road getting off the Mosholu Parkway in the Bronx (I've been cutting through Grand Concourse lately to skip traffic on 87 to get to Harlem on time in the morning). This damn idiot cut in front of me so hard that I had to swerve and hit my tire into the curb on the off-ramp... thus leading to me cursing like a demon at a fucking bus driver.

Incident #2 today: on my drive home for lunch, I was driving down the Sprain and a ghetto ass mongoloid, dew-rag whipping in the wind, was speeding, and for some reason, decided to cut right in front of me, causing me to slam on my breaks, swerve, and yet again curse up a storm.

Incident #3: Driving down the Mosholu, AGAIN, there was construction. The left lane had to merge into the right lane, the lane I was in. Everyone was merging into the right lane like human beings... except this one fucker in a white Dodge Charger. Captain Cool decides it's a better idea to gun it as hard as possible into the orange construction barrels, and cut it into me, ONCE AGAIN, causing me to slam on the breaks, swerve, and this time gun it after him screaming like a lunatic out the window.

But, this incident wasn't the only one in this drive into Harlem. Shortly after, a cretin in a mini van started tailgating me shortly after I got off of Grand Concourse and crossed the 145th street bridge. This time though, I must've pissed her off for not going insanely over the speed limit, so she cut around me and gunned it... RIGHT INTO A FUCKING BEE-LINE BUS! You know I pointed and laughed as the woman was backing her mini van away from the bus to see she smashed in the entire right front side of her stupid mini van she decided to try and drive like Steve McQueen in.

And then, after all was said and done and I was heading home from Harlem for the day, I turned the corner from Convent Ave onto 135th street, I was a few seconds late to witness another mini van slam into a brand new Chevy Suburban that was used by a limo service. As I was trying to get around the traffic caused by this situation, some mongo in another mini van flies around the corner and nearly clips me. I gave him the look of death as he had this scared look on her face.

The final situation, at least with me driving this car today, ended up with a stand still traffic jam on 87 headed north. I tried getting off the off ramp to head to Central Ave to get around traffic via the Sprain. Problem was, two trucks swerved in front of me and made it impossible for me to get off 87 without hitting either of the two trucks... so, being completely fed up with all the close calls and situations that I went through today, I decided to just floor it in reverse and then drive off the on ramp, backwards, to get onto the Central Ave and take it home from there. Yea... and this isn't the first time I've done that either (although, the levels of my sanity the first time were questionable as well, but for other reasons).

Oh, and so, in other news, my sister and I went to Dingbatz tonight to look for her credit card that she realized she left there last time we all went there on Saturday to see the show. On the way there, I can't count how many times my sister got cut off (and yes, most of which were mini vans doing so). On the GWB coming home, a suv kept swerving til my sister honked at her, when we passed them, they honked at us and we realized it was just a buncha angry Hasidic Jews who began shaking their fists at us. Then there was the girl we saw being held down by 2 cops as a EMS guy was trying to hop the divider from the other side of the Saw Mill. I couldn't hear what the girl was screaming, but she looked all kinds of drugged up and trying to resist arrest. This was followed by seeing a swarm of cops left and right flying up and down the north and south sides of the Saw Mill. Fucking random.

In other news, I'd like to share a quick but funny story Jeff told me about the last time he was working the bar at the Grand Ballroom in NYC. It was for this benefit for Haiti that Sean Paul was throwing. First of all, Jeff said to me and Scott "I have never seen people so disgusting and animalistic people he has ever seen... and this is coming from me." Jeff starts his story by telling us that within the first 2 hours of the event, all the Hennessy had been drank. Keep in mind it was a 9 hour event and the place was supposed to have enough to last all 9 hours. People kept coming up to him, demanding Hennessy and he kept telling them there was none and saying shit like "I can't serve you any cause you drank it all." One guy offered Jeff 200 bucks for a bottle thinking the place was holding out on the people for some reason. Jeff was saying how the ballroom buys Hennessy bottles for 80 bucks and 200 wouldn't be near enough to pay for one if you were to buy it at the place (if you don't know how bottle service is charged, they figure how much each drink costs per serving, and then multiply that by how many servings are in the bottle). Jeff then said, at one point, bouncer came over to Jeff and asked him how the night was going for him. Jeff went on to say these people drank all the Hennessy, weren't tipping him at all, and that they were just straight up disgusting and rude to him. The bouncer went on to say that in all the years he's been working as a bouncer, he has never seen so many fights break out in one place, and that he had to break up a fight every 5 minutes or so. By the end of the night, when they were closed and people were breaking down the bar for the night and cleaning up, Jeff did his usual rounds of the place to see if anyone dropped any money or weed on the floor during the concert. Instead, what he found was torn out clumps of weaves, splatters of blood and used condoms strewn across the floor.

"Summarize"

Since Thursday afternoon, up until maybe yesterday, my life was a whirlwind of stupidity and indulgences.

Lets see. Highlights of Thursday include meeting up Kyle, heading to the east village with him and my sister, wandering for a bit til I decided to take the 2 of them to Blue and Gold. We hung out there for a bit and sucked it up with dealing with the bitter, stuck up, a-hole bartender (which is basically anyone that place employs if you ask me). My sister eventually left around the same time Kyle's friend met us up for drinks. Around this time, we also decided to trek across the LES. Noting much went down. We went to one bar with a cute bartender (which is around the same time I started getting these chalices of gin and soda), and um... what else? Oh, I not only convinced these 3 homeless guys that I didn't have any money, but that I too was homeless. Bad idea, since after the convincing was done, I was bombarded with helpful hints on how to stay warm in the cold months and where to look for free to substantially low priced residency. Then they asked me why I was hanging out with two kids who obviously had money to buy pizza and not get me pizza. This is around the time I kinda just scampered off after saying something that was just me verbally trailing off, followed by me trailing off physically.

The night was pretty mundane for the most part after that, except for when we me and Kyle were going back to my sister's. For some reason we got on the wrong side of the tracks. We were on the west bound side when we needed to be on the east bound, headed to Brooklyn. What did we do? Well, first I calmed Kyle down and told him we could just walk up the stairs and go around to the other side... of course I lead us to the wrong set of stairs, and lead to Kyle freaking out and jumping on the tracks and running across them to the other platform. Of course, I being a drunk idiot followed as everyone had this mortified look on their faces and stared us down afraid we'd do something else equally crazy.

Closest thing to crazy done after that was me stare at this subway poster for that movie Date Night. Stare at it good til I noticed a slight tear in Tina Fey's face and then well... this:

Friday, we laid there on the couches in my sister's apartment for a good chunk of the day. I eventually left, went back home, showered, changed, packed a bag, and then was back out the door to go back to my sister's to meet up Kyle. Ended up having a burrito the length of my forearm waiting for Kyle to get back from McSorely's. After arguing that i refused to drive to Philly, we got on one of those Chinaman express busses to Philly. Within 5 minutes of the bus leaving the "station", the emergency escape window busted open. I couldn't help but laugh for some reason as the Asian kid sitting in one of the seats next to the window just up and yells "HOLY DOG SHIT!" and started freaking out a little.

Then there's the fight between these two FILTH bags in a Acura TL decked out in racing stickers and those obnoxious mufflers that look like they are coffee bean cans got out of their car and started yelling at the woman in the BMW behind them in traffic (I guess the woman tapped their bumper? Who knows... those people were FILTH).

Eventually, Kyle and I got to Philly, met up his friend Alexis, and her friends at some bar in South Philly. We dropped our shit off at Alexis' place, met her roommate and some dude she was hanging out with in a tweed jacket.

From there, we went to some punk house to see a buncha "thrash" bands surrounded by people drinking and/or letting loose to the bands playing. This was followed by kids skating and riding bikes around the house and then followed by us, once again stopping off at Alexis' to drop our shit off, convince Lauren (Alexis' roommate) to come out with us, and then head to some bar that had karaoke done by people who could not hit a single note when doing Weezer songs. Highlight of that bar was this girl singing some Blondie song and basically getting all hot and bothered while bombed out of her mouth til the Karaoke host got mad and yelled at her to not molest his equipment (talking about the karaoke equipment, not his penis).

After this, we headed back to the apartment or whatever you call the place they were living in. Drinking like retards. getting high left and right. Being brash to 2 of Alexis' friends that came over. Etc, etc. This went on til about 6:30am when I passed the fuck out on the futon and woke up to everyone being loud a few hours later.

Highlights before we left back for NY were me stumbling upon an original pressing of the Reagan Youth album, an original Black Flag "Louie, Louie" 7" and um... I think that was about it. Oh and sushi right before we had to run to the bus before it left back for NY.

Rest of Saturday consisted of ANOTHER punk house show, this time in a loft in some run down building located in some bad part of town, that was all industrial. This was then followed by showing up to Lucy's to meet up a very inebriated Jared on his birthday followed by me and my sister losing Kyle. Did I mention that it was the most packed I've ever seen Lucy's in all the years I've been going there ever since Jared and I discovered that bar about 5 or 6 years ago?

My sister and I left early to look for Kyle (who was sitting on my sister's couch when we walked into her apartment).

Sunday was nothing but my sister driving me out to Loki's. We hung out there, watched Wrestlemania and all I really recall about that besides having a really good time, was Shammy telling me that if I want to get back in shape, maybe I should consider not drinking gin straight from the bottle as I talked to him about getting back into shape. Oh, and apparently when my sister dropped me back off at the house my mom was still up and somehow ended up going from conversations about ragging on people I used to know and then got into me demanding to her that I marry Lady Gaga over and over. This was followed by my mother repeatedly telling me I was drunk and to go to sleep. This went on til about 4am.

Monday is where I took a break... kinda. Yea, I guess. I was supposed to get a lot of shit done Monday. All that ended up happening was me going all the way out to Jersey with a tow truck to tow my Cobra outta there to take to a shop to have a new motor dropped in it, but this never happened cause some girl parked her car right in front of the garage door and I couldn't get the car out. I came back home, FURIOUS and then all else I did was order a pizza, lay in bed the remainder of the day, and then pick Scott up from the subway in Yonkers where he repaid me with Taco Bell. Pretty mundane night.

Last night I planned on sleeping all day. I did a good amount of that, which I guess was good since I feel like utter shit (may have something to do with Kyle and my sister repeatedly coughing on me from Thursday until Sunday). I was awoken later in the night by Dennis calling me and showing up to my house to take me off to Romil's for his b-day which consisted of me sitting there looking sickly til the movie started (we went to see hot tub time machine). I kept nodding off in the back seat the entire ride home, came home, yelled at my mom for trying to be funny and me telling her I was going to throw something at her if she thought she was gonna come in my room and annoy me any more than she already had done when I walked in the door.

And then there's today. We finally got some people to come cut down the neighbor's tree on our house/property. Did I mention the neighbors ran out of their house once and told this one guy we had come over to look at the tree that we weren't home and to not talk to us about prices for cutting it down, ALL just cause he was too cheap to have to pay anything? talk about scum bag. My mom told this guy working on the tree not to talk to anyone but her or me about this tree.

Between this tree nonsense (they've been here since 6am cutting this fucker to pieces and I am losing my mind) and my mother just really being on my nerves the past 2 days (I really don't think she pays attention to a word I ever say cause she spends an entire day asking me the same thing over and over until I flip a shit at her to shut up and that my answer is not going to change after the first 20 times of it being the same question), not to mention I apparently need to get my Cobra out of the garage by tomorrow and haven't heard shit about when that car is gonna be moved away from the entrance so I can get mine out... I'm gonna lose my mind or have a conniption or something.

And, if there's parts of this that don't make sense, it's probably cause I'm losing my mind from stress and the fact chainsaws and wood chippers are just going off all day, leading me to be distracted.