Saturday, May 23, 2009


thanks largely in part to my saturday record find of the rolling stones, "goat head soup," this is what i present.



June First. I'm marking my imaginary calendar.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009


Sounds so fucking good.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


There is a problem with the world in which most of us live in. there are the kinds of people that tend to get away with being publically mediocre, while many of us barely pass our own personal standards of living. but maybe this secret double standard is something that only i value. (though i doubt that.) these moral guidelines usually guide people through life successfully because you get to do things like avoid soul compromising situations through conscious living.

maybe there is no right and there is no wrong. but sometimes it seems all too apparent. tonight was one of those instances. i was always taught to recognize that by either utilizing my voice to say something, to question something, to draw something, to even joke about something, is a freedom you should never be scared of using. come on, the world has pretty big and weird problems. the ongoing political troubles of the entire world for one, people starving, religious cleansings, child prostitutes, your own friends in abusive romantic relationships, the list goes fucking on.

but when you're sitting at a practically empty resturant, eating chips and guacamole, washing it down with thick waves of mango batida, the world doesn't always have to be such a bummer. well you know, until people become a relenetless bummer on your moral conscious.

all i hear is that the seven people behind our table have gradually abandoned the check. i happen to know some of these patrons and in my mind, though i'm enjoying a meal with an out of town friend, i'm almost trying to block out the environmental awkwardness. but the second time my favorite waitress has to go outside to point out to these pussy ass, passive ass motherfuckers to pay the bill, (which she was totally cool about but had to mention bringing chico out),
in my mind i'm thinking " should i say something to them?" you know, since i know some of them. it seems like the right thing to do if it hasn't been resolved. cause i'm not a snitch, i will call a motherfucker out while it's happening not after it happens.

so what's life like when you're a professional skateboarder with tattoos all over your face and your name is antwuan dixon and you're probably wasted as fuck on a supra trip? well on monday night, may 19, 2009 you're going to hang out with a bunch of chicks and dudes that all either may or may not actually order food with you but somehow neglected food claims have led to $43 dollars in unpaid debt.

but at any rate you end up coming back into the resturant twice to settle up a check that you may or may not plan on paying but for some strange reason you keep re-entering an inconvinient door that you emphasize is a shitty door to begin with, and naturally end up squeezing by me through the door because i end up asking the people outside what is going on?

cue "SIT THE FUCK DOWN, SHUT THE FUCK UP" several times, which is probably the worst thing you can say to me when I'm not planning on doing either. not to mention I haven't even said anything offensive to begin with. Let me guess, You have face tattoos, you're bigger than me, so I should be fucking intimidated by you? Sometimes I think manhattan's made me soft as fuck because I was born around negaticity! is this all I'm getting? That shit is like fucking home to me and I will roll through the flames like a kitten.

Of course I don't sit down but then again cue the errand boy/team manager that comes running in at the last second, trying to split things up telling me also " to shut the fuck up, because he'll eventually let it go." OH SORRY. Whoever said professional skateboarders aren't a bunch of arrogant, spoiled, entitled dipshits who have paid babysitters to run after them when they misplace their per diem and have already pulled their " fight in front of max fish" card never existed. Because for the most part motherfuckers are cliche as fuck. Not to mention the chicks that hang on these marginally lame examples of humans can't help but follow walking edgy skateboard advertisements.

And fuck people who just stand around like pussy motherfuckers, fanning the flames of cowardice. If you're ready to overly associate yourself with people, back up your new "cool, skateboard friends." Shit is a JOKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Eventually the old babysitter/tm paid the bill and all was fine in "the hat." Not so coincidentally after all this, I re-learned that my favorite waitress was in fact, Scotty Schwartz's girl hannah's mother, Gina. Who, as i previously stated is my favorite waitress at El Sombrero. She said in all of her years working there she has never had to call the cops, but tonight, it came down to that. She also said she knew from the beginning it was going to be alright somehow. i'd like to think to never question my subtle affinity with people. i reacted as a person without so much as my gut. all in all, I'm glad I stick to my intution about things. because it's the only way i never regret shit. all you can do is fine tune to that intuition and hope it doesn't get you into a periless situation. but for the most part, everybody else can go get yay'ed up on someone elses' sloppy dick because that's all people want to do anyways.

Monday, May 18, 2009

after watching the mouse video pretty much all day today, it kind of dawned on me that watching videos from the 90's and before serves not only as largely nostalgic, but in general is so much more exciting and more original to see even now. there's no doubt that videos nowadays are still pretty epic, but let's just say the legacy that is every trifling, shreddy, thrasher-esque video or even promo has had it's lifestyle, scumbag art direction fill for the next several eternities. the merry-go-round of tattooed beer guts, underaged girls partaking in softcore flashings, the all too prevelant circle jerk fodder of wasted antics, with the crumbs of usually impressive skateboarding survive as the only meaningful highlight. it bums me out that skate videos, for the most part, have become depressingly cliche. but maybe i expect too much from videos because i've been spoiled with such good ones. but there's always the possibility that i'm just not part of the target demographic.

my solution to the dilemma is quite simple though. bring back the fucking skits! i think the value of a good skit in a video has become either undervalued or people are afraid to look like kooks in an industry where pumping out intimidating video parts has become more important. anti-hero has always had good ones. girl and chocolate, since bones brigade, has pretty much made a critical and lasting influence on the art of skate video skits. not so coincidentally, it's no wonder that these same companies are the ones that in my mind, have always reflected the quintessential idea of genuine skate companies run by skateboarders.


By TOM HAYS – 1 hour ago
NEW YORK (AP) — Woody Allen agreed Monday to a $5 million settlement in his lawsuit accusing American Apparel of using an image parodying him as a rabbi without his permission.
Both sides announced the settlement — to be paid by American Apparel's insurance company — on the morning a trial was to start in federal court in Manhattan.
Reading from a statement outside court, Allen said he hoped the outcome "would discourage American Apparel or anyone else from ever trying such a thing again."
American Apparel president Dov Charney told reporters it wasn't his decision to settle. The company's insurance company "controlled the defense" in the case, he said.
"I'm not sorry of expressing myself," he said.
Allen, 73, sued the trendy clothing company last year for $10 million after the advertisements turned up on billboards in Hollywood and New York, and on a Web site. Using a frame from the film "Annie Hall," the ads depicted Allen as a Hasidic Jew — long beard, side curls, black hat — and featured Yiddish text meaning "the holy rebbe."
Court papers filed on Allen's behalf had described the actor-director as one of the most influential figures in the history of American film, and say he believes maintaining strict control over his image has been critical to his success.
The papers claimed Allen hasn't done commercials in the United States since 1960s, when he was a struggling standup comic. The billboards, he says, falsely implied he endorsed a clothing line known for its racy advertising — a "blatant misappropriation and commercial use of Allen's image."
American Apparel lawyers have called the $10 million demand "outrageous," especially since the billboards were taken down after a week. They also have threatened to call Allen's former longtime companion, actress Mia Farrow, and his current wife, Soon-Yi Previn, as witnesses to show that his image has already been devalued by scandal. Previn is Farrow's adopted daughter.
Farrow starred in several of Allen's movies, including "Crimes and Misdemeanors." Their relationship ended in 1992, when she discovered he was having an affair with Previn, then 22.
On Monday, Allen blasted American Apparel, calling their First Amendment defense "sheer nonsense," and accusing of it of trying "to smear me."
Charney insisted there were no hard feelings, saying the billboards were misunderstood.
"We would never try to malign the dignity of Mr. Allen," he said. "I have respect for Mr. Allen. ... I hope to meet him on more friendly terms at a different point."
Copyright © 2009 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.

ads that never got around to hovering above allen street. courtesy of google.

May 15, 2009 by nicolecallihan
I once dated a guy who summed up each of his exes in one pithy line. There was the redhead who smelled like baked organic goods and left him for a woman. There was the way-too-young painter who showed up on his stoop in the rain with a glass bowl of goldfish whimpering like a puppy and begging for love. There were, of course, and in no particular order: the anorexic who made the world’s best mashed potatoes, the bore who in awkward moments would spout knock-knock jokes, the crappy poet, the would-be home-wrecker, the wannabe prude, the Jesus-freak-turned-Wican-turned-yogi, and, uhm, me.

I lived in fear of what I would become. It seemed “the tall, thin one with soft hair who was equal parts wise, compassionate and hilarious” was out of my reach. Would I be “the one who was always hungry and thought magic was pulling nickels from behind kids’ ears”? How about “the one who never remembered to shave”? Fortunately, the guy beat me to the punch. He made me: “the one he dumped on Valentine’s Day”.


found this on the painted bride quarterly. i have no idea what it is nor how i arrived at such a site. this is an exerpt from an article that i found to be pretty interesting. not the whole article, but just this part. considering these are real people, every now and then it's naturally compelling to wonder how your exes may have described you to strangers.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Close call. Thought my blogspot was retaliating on me. a little "emptying of the cache" or "resetting safari" never hurt anyone. in fact, it's saved me from a few panic attacks on this aging computer.


Hipster Grifter Kari Ferrell Goes to Court!
By Doree Shafrir
May 15, 2009 | 12:37 p.m

PHILADELPHIA - At around 10:15 this morning, Judge Frank Blumberg of Room 504 of the Criminal Justice Center at 13th and Filbert streets in Philadelphia sauntered into his courtroom, ready to begin the day’s hearings.

On his docket for the day: a woman asking for a murder charge in which no one had been killed to be expunged from her record so she might be able to get her job at a bank back (granted); a guy who was accused of attempted murder for stabbing his girlfriend dozens of times trying to get his bail reduced (denied); and a man who denied having been driving too close to a police car one night in North Philadelphia. (It didn’t help his case that he said the officers had been driving an unmarked van when in fact they had been in the Philadelphia Police Department’s standard-issue Chevy Impala.)

An hour or so later, the court officer motioned to the four reporters in the room—an intern from the online news desk at The Philadelphia Inquirer, a gossip columnist from the Philadelphia Daily News, a reporter from KYW News Radio 1060 and this reporter, from The Observer—to come out of the galley and into the court itself, where they might be able to have a better view of a closed-circuit television that had been set up on the other side of the room. “Case 37, Ferrell,” intoned the court officer, a friendly man named Tony who seemed to have taken a shine to the Inquirer intern, a tall blonde named Brittany wearing platform sandals and her Inquirer ID card on a lanyard around her neck.

On the screen appeared a short-haired Asian woman in a bright orange jumpsuit. Her large chest tattoo of a phoenix was covered up. She did not appear to be wearing any makeup.

A young lawyer from the district attorney’s office named John Murray sat in front of the television questioning her. He asked her to state her name and home address.

“Kari Ferrell,” she said, and mumbled an address in Brooklyn, though for the last couple of weeks, since being picked up by the Philadelphia Police after alighting from a bus from New York, Ms. Ferrell has been residing at the Riverside Correction Facility in Northeast Philadelphia, a women’s-only prison built in 2004. She said she was 22 years old and said she had a bachelor’s degree in music from the University of Utah. (Several sources had previously told The Observer that Ms. Ferrell does not in fact have a degree. After her hearing, The Observer called the University of Utah’s transcripts department, which told us that no one by the name of Kari Ferrell or Farrell had ever been enrolled.)

Had she ever been diagnosed with any mental health issues, Mr. Murray asked? “No,” she responded. Was she under the influence of drugs or alcohol? “No.” Did she understand the charges against her for bad checks and forgery in Salt Lake City? “Yes.” Was she electing to waive extradition? “Yes.” Had she had a chance to discuss the extradition with her attorney? “Yes.”

And with that, her hearing was over. Her public defender, a young woman with reddish-brown hair wearing a gray skirt suit, said that Utah now has 30 days to come pick up Ms. Ferrell, but the governor of Utah, Jon Huntsman, must first sign the extradition order. If no one from Utah comes to get her within 30 days, she has the right to habeas corpus, meaning that the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania could decide it no longer wishes to keep her, and let her go.

suprisingly, i happened to think about this today. whatever happened to the hipster grifter? apparently she got caught with her asian ass self sporting a lighter shade of brown bob. at any rate, she's still not cute. and! tagging "aids" or something else depressingly "ironic" or "urban edgy" is "fucking gay" and "played the fuck out." i hope everybody can one day get over catchphrases after a month and move the fuck on someday. however, it wouldn't feel right if i didn't update my previous, previous rant on this cunnilingus.Especially when I don't understand extradition orders and habeas corpus in all of it's explicities. whatever, i hope she fries..... me some bulgogi!!