tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33943297298162883732024-03-18T20:21:21.931-07:00Shits ri·dic·u·lousThe Involuntarys rhythm section writing and reporting.The Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-41851287295338529102012-03-27T14:13:00.001-07:002012-03-27T14:13:14.470-07:00Hoodies and shitSo over the past week or so I've seen an increasing number of folks posting shit about Treyvon Martin and George Zimmerman. I've vaguely followed the case since I first heard about it, and I know there's been<br />
<div>1.) A whole lot of continually emerging details over A. Zimmerman's nationality B. Treyvon's portrayal as an innocent party in this whole affair (old pictures of him as a fresh faced youngster, etc.) C. whether or not Treyvon was the initial aggressor or not.</div><div>2.) A separate case recently in which a kid was set on fire, and told "you get what you deserve white boy."</div><div>3.) A massive spike in the sale of Skittles, and probably hoodies too, but most folks already own those.</div><div>4.) Yet another ridiculously stupid thing out of Geraldo's mouth.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm not really here to talk about all of that specifically though. </div><div>What I find disgusting and morbid is people using it to push politics and ( to a slightly lesser degree) underhanded racism. I mean, can we not all agree that children being shot and set on fire is a fucking tragedy without having to put a spin on it? Whether it's "oh here's what the liberal media doesn't want you to see, Treyvon was expelled for weed and he really looked more like a thug than he did in that picture his family released," or "This white kid was set on fire for being white, where's his media firestorm (couldn't help it, sorry)" Yeah, racism still exists, it's a sad yet shittily true fact. Yeah, race probably played a part in why Treyvon was shot (although neither you nor I know what Zimmerman was thinking, and I highly doubt he'll be talking about it publicly any time soon.) Yeah racism certainly was why that poor kid was set on fire. That being said does posting snarky shit on facebook about either kid make them any less dead or burnt? </div><div><br />
</div><div>I dunno man, what happened to those kids is fucking tragic, and using tragedy to push politics is pretty gross. Also seriously how is Geraldo allowed to be on tv anymore?</div>The Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-68806298825367327112012-03-07T02:25:00.000-08:002012-03-07T02:25:23.140-08:00I apologize for nothing!So let me first off apologize for our lack Of updates. Scratch that, we got busy, y'alls can suffer goddamn you! Let me second (first if you exclude the first apology that I just scratched) apologize for the typos that will abound in this post. I'm writing this on my phone, in bed, with a snoring girlfriend and two dogs who are far more energetic than they should be at 4:30. <br />
I dunno man, what topics need broached here? I don't really have anything grand and profound to say about religion, whatever gets you to bed at night is a ok with this fella.<br />
Politics? Meh, I think no matter how well intentioned a candidate is, their hand get pretty well tied by how the government works, that no one is really capable of changing shit.<br />
No I think the only logical thing for me to talk about is something I feel pretty passionate about, and that my friends is what annoys me at work(if you don't know, I'm a bartender/server.)<br />
1.) Snapping and or whistling at me. I'm not a dog, and this should be common sense. If you don't believe me, try doing it to your accountant or lawyer and see what reaction you get.<br />
2.) Interrupting me. That one's pretty common sense actually, no one likes being interrupted, no one.<br />
3.) Throwing money at me. Conterintuative, I know. Most People would just love having cash thrown at them, right? Well if I'm standing right in front of you, no, it's actually kind of demeaning that you would decide to bypass handing me your cash and instead throw it in front of me.<br />
4.) Ordering something from the bar and walking away, giving no indication where I should bring said item out to. Self explanitory, yes?<br />
5.) Overly simplifying your credit card tab. Let's say your name is Bryan Adams. When I ask for the name on your tab, if you say "Bryan, it's a blue chase card." you are a dick. It's more than possible that there's more than one Bryan, and you're a stupid stupid man for not thinking of that. Just giving your last name is better than that, but the full name is ideal really.<br />
6.) When you're a dick. Stop being dicks, you know who you are.<br />
-shuttup, shuttup all of you, goddamnit I'm busy, bring me waffles!-<br />
pretzel.The Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-18707114193251720822011-08-22T16:00:00.001-07:002011-08-22T16:08:57.194-07:00Know what I haven't had in a while? Big League Chew.I'm sitting at a bar (no surprises here right?) And the Little League World Series is on. It's fascinating and bizarre for a number of reasons. First off, the US seems to be represented on a statewide basis, whereas every other country is listed soley as a country. This makes for an interesting Colorado vs.Australia type dynamic. On the one hand I guess baseball is nost popular here in the states, so it stands to reason that there'll be more talented players per capita here than anywhere else, still it's odd that things are split up that way. <br />
Also each player has their stats listed when at bat, which isn't that weird except that it lists trivia facts like their favorite food and favorite tv shows. It's odd for a couple reasons. First, that just seems like pedophile fuel. Hey, Tommy from Kansas likes s'mores, load up the rape van! Second, in the game I'm watching (Saudi Arabia vs. Japan) a Japanese kid listed his favorite food as cheese, and a Saudi kid just named his as sushi. My mind kinda got blown a little after that last one.<br />
Anyways, I'm gonna finish this beer and head to band practice.<br />
If hating baseball is wrong, than I imagine all my friends are in the right<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-29999364568005020092011-08-09T11:01:00.000-07:002011-08-09T11:01:51.289-07:00Neeed Heroiiiin!Whattup Assbags? <br />
I'm sitting at home at the moment taking a break from painting. See I paint stuff. Not in the "pulling ladders out of the back of an Econoline van" kinda way but the "ooh how marvelous a use of taupe, I simply must have this for my collection" kinda way. I guess the simple way of saying it would be I'm an artist, but that has so many douchebaggy art school hipster connotations to it that I prefer just to say that I paint shit to amuse myself. Anywhoo, I'm doing some commission pieces for a girl that I went to school with, and even though I need to put the rush on them (under 2 weeks to finish,) my hands do not want to cooperate with me. I get shaky hands pretty easily, and I'm sure the amount of coffee and cigarettes I flood my body with isn't helping matters, but I guess that's why they call 'em addictions right? Eh, long story short, I can't be trusted to pull a straight line right now, so i figured I'd rap with y'all for a minute. <br />
<br />
The bandski is planning an early November tour out to Vegas and back. So far we've only booked Vegas, but tentatively it's gonna be New Orleans, Vegas, Albuquerque, Houston, St. Louis, and some other places I can't remember off of the top of my head. Shit should be a blast, we're bringing along Damon's wife Michelle and our roadie (fancy right?) Joe Asshole. Drunken debauchery and regrettable pictures should ensue. <br />
That's all I've got for you my loves, I'm gonna go eat some food and conquer these damn shakes<br />
Spread 'em if you got 'em!<br />
-PrezelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-22883958930263772192011-07-28T22:09:00.001-07:002011-07-28T22:09:22.241-07:00Contrived Pop BullshitI'm at a bar listening to a gentleman whose been heaviliy indulging in some marojuana talk to my girlfriend about Lady Gaga. I have little to nothing to contribute to this conversation.<br />
Wait, now he's talking about raves.<br />
Now they're back to the Gaga.<br />
I'm gonna drinkThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-2065953198354162802011-07-14T16:22:00.000-07:002011-07-14T16:22:16.518-07:00White Pizza!Check this shit out, guess what I just met. Go on, guess!<br />
Give up yet? A racist hippie, no seriously you read that right, a racist hippie. See this guy's been hanging around with some of my friends, which means that though I don't know him very well, I do see him in passing from time to time and today he happened to be over at my house.<br />
This kid's a few years younger than me. He's got long (Possibly dreaded?) blond hair, and today was wearing a bandana and a beaded hemp necklace. Compound that description with the fact that he was talking at a bit of length about smoking weed and you've got yourself a hippie. <br />
Now let me clear the air here, I don't especially like hippies. Sure they're usually pretty relaxed folks and as a rule they're pretty good about sharing their shit, however they also usually smell like patchouli and/or incense (Bleh) and listen to shitty music. Those aren't great reasons for disliking someone, but hey, I've shunned people for less. <br />
Now here's where shit starts to go south (Heh, south, cuz he's a racist. Get it?) This guy's talking about walking to the gas station and he asks "are there gonna be any black people that will beat me up?" My immediate though was "god I hope so," but I kept that'n to myself. One of my friends said no but they might ask you to bum a cigarette, to which he replies "I don't give cigarettes to black people." At this point I leaned over and loudly whispered "I think your hippie friend might be a racist." He argued that no, he wasn't a racist, he was just proud to be white. Now first off, yeah dude, if you have to ask if one specific racial group is going to arbitrarily beat you up than you're most certainly a racist. But secondly I've found that most people that are "proud to be white" are pretty racist overall. Here's why; say you're a black dude. Can you pretty safely say "I'm a proud black man" and not sound bigoted? Yeah. Racism's still a very real thing, unfortunately growing up black means that you're going to have to experience and overcome it, and that's certainly something to be proud of. Same goes for about every minority that you can name whether it's a racial, religious, or sexuality based minority, you can say "I'm a proud Eskimo, I'm a proud Mormon, or I'm a proud lesbian without sounding like an asshole. Hell if you can say all three than triple props to you, you frigid polygamous carpet muncher you. But you get my point right? White people are by and large not oppressed for being white. You may be a white dude that overcomes poverty or overcomes a fucking speech impediment or some shit, but generally (and I know there are exceptions here, I'm just speaking in broad terms) being white in and of itself doesn't set you back much in life. That's why I've found when people say things like "I'm just proud to be white" They really mean "I'm proud that I'm not black," and that's fucking bullshit.<br />
Seriously though, patchouli smells like shit and Phish sounds like it.The Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-11987257966517368152011-06-23T11:29:00.000-07:002011-06-23T11:29:53.367-07:00Fucking Danger Will Robinson!Salutations y'alls! I know it's been a while since I've posted on here, and for that I'm sincerely sorry. Shit just gets busy sometimes y'know? Anyways I was just gonna post this as a Facebook status but I realized I've got way to much rambling to do and not enough space on the 'ole book of face to do so.<br />
Have you seen the new warning labels that are gonna be stuck on cigarettes? From what I gather they're not going into effect until fall of 2012 (assuming the world doesn't end by then) but they are going on every pack in the pretty near future.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzAQiM9rmFc6fKEpXi9KzlnVX-PPJBYhJHsZBtV0bwb4TxkQNyYQSxUnTndMa5uaicDDhCe53hm8SX5RlC7P4xRsNbrRHO-u24kJRx25T8rNYD2sUYgSH1Agh82Mnd1hfHUYjJzoz3fA/s1600/cigarette-label-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzAQiM9rmFc6fKEpXi9KzlnVX-PPJBYhJHsZBtV0bwb4TxkQNyYQSxUnTndMa5uaicDDhCe53hm8SX5RlC7P4xRsNbrRHO-u24kJRx25T8rNYD2sUYgSH1Agh82Mnd1hfHUYjJzoz3fA/s320/cigarette-label-4.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3eDyGnOV4HJgOH7SbRWX0Xh7RpHIK0COACi1tZio1ksC9zTy0wLZAc_1ZF7GnfhCvr0et1jt7kzAFU7hRny4yLvh3d4nBx9-gtmR_YtYtYEZDeGFHDEgxtfWJ7rzhcCjkDhDnUnZmb8/s1600/cigarette-label-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3eDyGnOV4HJgOH7SbRWX0Xh7RpHIK0COACi1tZio1ksC9zTy0wLZAc_1ZF7GnfhCvr0et1jt7kzAFU7hRny4yLvh3d4nBx9-gtmR_YtYtYEZDeGFHDEgxtfWJ7rzhcCjkDhDnUnZmb8/s320/cigarette-label-5.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguIQeUyD7BoCqQul2F054fEm-mj7H1RULnZx2lgA0m6B8mx-137psP2UGQycRoIP1Rz3VP425NSMrTEDyf9WHhmkvsDWwQDtcTW0j6BPKOfGdz76mMcm-4TgGbuZ6-dZDpsmeKHExqslc/s1600/cigarette-label-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguIQeUyD7BoCqQul2F054fEm-mj7H1RULnZx2lgA0m6B8mx-137psP2UGQycRoIP1Rz3VP425NSMrTEDyf9WHhmkvsDWwQDtcTW0j6BPKOfGdz76mMcm-4TgGbuZ6-dZDpsmeKHExqslc/s320/cigarette-label-6.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Pretty serious shit huh? Ready for the shock twist in this entry? I'm completely for these terrifyingly gruesome bastards. I mean it I think every pack absolutely needs these labels, hell I think every cigarette should have a heat activated chip in it that makes the cigarette yell " Hey dumbass these motherfuckers cause cancer!" in Gilbert Gottfried's voice. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCqdZKSBm3lmo8HLf95CgiVArMRE2CPFz3GqlZMUFrgvl23F-g_gy_DdRHwH7ErPp9Y6hQOyia4uNYwxCzhYO_XeK3Yn660Hx1i3fyeU9FSBYWDxDqc7uHN8Csxp5A7vnq-oiycQwsLY/s1600/guesswhosjewish.com_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCqdZKSBm3lmo8HLf95CgiVArMRE2CPFz3GqlZMUFrgvl23F-g_gy_DdRHwH7ErPp9Y6hQOyia4uNYwxCzhYO_XeK3Yn660Hx1i3fyeU9FSBYWDxDqc7uHN8Csxp5A7vnq-oiycQwsLY/s320/guesswhosjewish.com_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fuck you cancer!-Gilbert Gottfired</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><br />
</div><div>Think about it, that's more tech jobs building the chips, more work for Mr. Gottfired, and I fucking guarantee earplug sales will skyrocket.</div><div>But that's not enough. No the FDA may be placated with these labels, but I sirs and madams haven't built a safe enough future yet. Check it, every McDonalds wrapper and every bucket of KFC gets a picture of an obese bloated corpse with the caption "you're eating your arteries to death fatass." Every bottle of Jagermeister gets a picture of David Hasselhoff eating off the floor that says "you and your whole frat are going to end up like this" </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8k9BiUEWHs-4pu5YrSzOs6A-_o3dYsT3aD1HbCW55YGq2w8DFw1OZjeP7_2Vvm6O6VulInI2olcYs7LY3evaSKMJKHir1JfYy2x2T2krQmIM6lSeq18J1NmEtLhF5PDLjFPqlmeukgxI/s1600/david-hasselhoff-drunk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8k9BiUEWHs-4pu5YrSzOs6A-_o3dYsT3aD1HbCW55YGq2w8DFw1OZjeP7_2Vvm6O6VulInI2olcYs7LY3evaSKMJKHir1JfYy2x2T2krQmIM6lSeq18J1NmEtLhF5PDLjFPqlmeukgxI/s320/david-hasselhoff-drunk.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just like this Chett, just like this</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><br />
</div><div>Every Snickers gets a picture of some british teeth, and every Red Bull gets a blood pressure warning smack dab on the front of it. Think I'm done? Think again motherfuckers, at birth every child gets a forehead tattoo that indicates they may or may not be a rapist!</div><div>We'll be the safest and thusly happiest society in the world, productivity will rise and illegal downloading will end all together (for some reason or another, just go with it.)</div><div>I don't have time to wait till 2012 though, so I'm off to Kinkos to print off some labels, see you motherfuckers later!</div><div>-Pretzel</div>The Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-8140632065568481882011-06-02T08:44:00.000-07:002011-06-02T08:44:55.037-07:00The Ex Girlfriend Witching HourDear cockmongers; how's it going?<br />
I realize it's been a while and for that i make no apologies, I've been doing shit. Belly button lint doesn't pick itself y'know?<br />
I worked at The Ship tonight, and it was murderously slow. The high/lowlight of my night was a ground of freshly 21 year olds ordering "well's whiskey and cokes" as if well's was a brand of liquor. Oh that and they kept talking to me about Jersey Shore, tipped like shit, and then one of them had the nerve to ask if we were hiring. A few terrible customers aside though, tonight was pretty fun.<br />
So since I haven't updated in a while, I'm gonna share a funny story with y'all. <br />
A while ago on the day in which daylight savings time kicks into effect I experienced what I'm going to refer to as the ex girlfriend witching hour. What might that be you might ask, and might or mightn't you ask I might explain via this tale. I was at home, laying in bed fucking around on Facebook, much as I am right now. All of a sudden a girl I dated pretty seriously a long time ago started up a chat with me. This was odd, as we weren't exactly on good terms, and hadn't spoken in a few years. I won't lie to you gentle reader, it was a strange and awkward conversation. She was clearly in a very lonely and vulnerable spot, but as kindhearted and loving as you all know me to be, I had a hard time being empathetic with this girl cuz hey, she did cut me pretty deep years back. <br />
So in the midst of this out of the blue conversation that I'm having a hard time processing, another ex girlfriend calls me. This lady hadn't spoken to me in roughly 6 months or so, but was drunk at the bar across the street from me and needed a ride home. Being the great person that I am, I hop up and head over to the bar. After a short car ride and some slurred thank yous I arrive back at the house. Here's where shit gets fucking strange.<br />
Hanging on the front door is the same black canvas Sailor Jerry purse that I bought for the first ex I mentioned. She was as far as I know, a 2 hour drive away at the time, so I don't think it's a stalker in the bushes getting a chubby over my panicked expression type scenario. It's fucking bizarre though right? I mean, let's recap: Exactly as the extra hour in daylight savings time kicks in, 2 of my exes start talking to me, and then a present I bought 3 or so years ago shows u on my door with no explanation (to this day) who put it there or why. Bizareness though, am I right?<br />
That's all I've got for you today my children.<br />
Go huff some paint and beat up a CVS security guard<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-60234307131467554832011-04-22T12:13:00.000-07:002011-04-22T12:13:47.968-07:00I Have Altered The Deal Pray I Don"t Alter It Any FurtherWell hello there turds, didn't see you come in. Might I be so bold as to say that you all look rather dashing this afternoon? What's that, you want to hear me ramble a bit? Well I suppose I can squeeze that into my busy schedule my cupcakes. <div>Sometimes I like to think of places it would be awesome to play a show/shoot a music video at. I think a show in the back of a semi truck would be pretty gnarly, possibly with a side cut out of it, and probably in a sketchy looking industrial parking lot type of setting. Another of my favorites is rooftops, any show on a rooftop is automatically at least twice as cool in my book preferably with a bunch of gnarly beat up lookin' punk kids. I feel like nighttime shows are also pretty badass especially when there's floodlights or fire involved as a lighting agent. Shows and videos in pools are bitching too, whether it be a full pool with a platform in the middle or an empty bowl (preferably with kids skating around the band in it.) But my ultimate venue choice, wait for it.... motherfucking Cloud City! </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxU-P5G594x1wXVnmQ3il5gzSD1Ouz2DqBU-7SEMnZBA7iE1tKASlnUuPfnZq2n-DRQPRMBXUSKTnffhezF0IOpLfIhSoxAd8JyWzgYAlxRk9ulIuGdyxE58GImEU9PJ2vKapL8XwkXA/s1600/R0067126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxU-P5G594x1wXVnmQ3il5gzSD1Ouz2DqBU-7SEMnZBA7iE1tKASlnUuPfnZq2n-DRQPRMBXUSKTnffhezF0IOpLfIhSoxAd8JyWzgYAlxRk9ulIuGdyxE58GImEU9PJ2vKapL8XwkXA/s320/R0067126.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BOOSH!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>No sirs and madams, it does not get any fucking cooler than cloud city, it is my life's ambition to play a show in Cloud City and get drunk on Colt 45 with Billy Dee Goddamned Williams. Think about that shit, freaky Bespin broads with head tentacles dancing around, that cyborg guy overseeing everything, those weird siamese twin space ships flying around, and Boba fucking Fett lurking in the corner nodding along with the music. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpsW6C0g9C81ErdUdNJ35iAz9zJThg9T5yaB-DYT9V8-NN9sYOcug9nLf1rQFINy0EvZW9BeLuIbvolmgx5BztHHhMy1JkYyOAL94zgPr4Q83BPF17FGNSOZQ74eM6m46KcV33CS4fsuk/s1600/Boba_Fett_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpsW6C0g9C81ErdUdNJ35iAz9zJThg9T5yaB-DYT9V8-NN9sYOcug9nLf1rQFINy0EvZW9BeLuIbvolmgx5BztHHhMy1JkYyOAL94zgPr4Q83BPF17FGNSOZQ74eM6m46KcV33CS4fsuk/s320/Boba_Fett_2.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In my head Boba Fett is a big Involuntarys fan</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>That my friends would be bad as shit. I don't want to hear your "Pretzel Cloud City isn't a real place" talk, or your "you're a little to old to fantasize about your band playing in a fictional universe" mumbo jumbo, and certainly not your " the only band that can make it in the Star Wars universe is the cantina band with those dudes that have weird crab vagina mouths" nonsense. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTtAukplsWnF9ppMhTa7PbsFsefXx2O5ve6VF579_SCsQOCUJhv_1lJANWkCBoR8U41vHLa-4KJi3x12FSNEGcixarUvX801Xt44U5i-VKzclguPkEFJdQ_UR-NxK0ABhjrsr3v_En6Eo/s1600/Cantina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTtAukplsWnF9ppMhTa7PbsFsefXx2O5ve6VF579_SCsQOCUJhv_1lJANWkCBoR8U41vHLa-4KJi3x12FSNEGcixarUvX801Xt44U5i-VKzclguPkEFJdQ_UR-NxK0ABhjrsr3v_En6Eo/s320/Cantina.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div><br />
</div><div>Fuck all you dream squashers, and fuck all Mos Eisley musicians, I can have dreams too you bastards!</div><div>Eh, I'm gonna get drunk and watch return of the Jedi</div><div>Wipe front to back!</div><div>-Pretzel</div><div><br />
</div>The Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-11877279977870124252011-04-07T14:55:00.000-07:002011-04-07T14:55:12.827-07:00Vkings! Wizards! Demon Lizards!You ever have one of those mornings? You know the kind of morning when you wake up and the cuffs are a tad too tight cuz they're not the fun fuzzy kind, you can't get the taste of burritos and gin out of your mouth, and the portly guard is yelling about the illegality of your bootlegged Dora The Explorer DVDs? Yeah me either. I mean don't get me wrong I've totally had bootlegged bavarian burrito mornings in my day just not many recently. No sirs and lady sirs, I'm pretty stoked on life nowadays. My stokedom is due to a number of factors (awesome friends, awesome job, the Bruins are number one in the northeast[suck it Joe, suck it Kevin] etc.) but the reason I'm gonna focus on today is motherfucking cornhole! If you're unfamiliar with the game, cornhole is a game in which two people team up against another two and throw beanbags at a slightly angled board with a hole cut into the top. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswGqX8PPiReRoYHPAmupZUxHgbgFdSUBLPMtUZeHt4wohuCuSb9u_hZSTCZ30zJeiH0k-Lmdr_4ouex7JZtETiUzON3lPbO-bKEYSmeSgInUXo3awJettyL3ppAB7BohcnLpBpXiGoFg/s1600/cornhole-game.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswGqX8PPiReRoYHPAmupZUxHgbgFdSUBLPMtUZeHt4wohuCuSb9u_hZSTCZ30zJeiH0k-Lmdr_4ouex7JZtETiUzON3lPbO-bKEYSmeSgInUXo3awJettyL3ppAB7BohcnLpBpXiGoFg/s320/cornhole-game.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
If your bag goes in the hole you earn 3 points, and if you merely make it on the board you get 1 point, however whatever the other team scores that round will offset your score, and your opponents can knock your bags off the board and null that point. It's one of those awesome games where you can play with a beer in your hand, in fact being a bit tipsy is a good strategy. So far as I know, "cornhole" is a regional term for the game, apparently in Chicago it's known as "beanbags." Fuck that though, it's goddamned cornhole and I will address it as such you windy city cockbags. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmFVYGLgrr3GngdxqLLlgA-fXI6AMB_LQoKpHyBuzbkQqRX687GqUsr385q1wsyctVJyVKLiyC8XEtbZwFlas69xMXeFH-KnNshXFY8CjiTLSJSbxaUXNXQylKdynpR7Q9J0O6ym-6wso/s1600/Chicago_skyline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmFVYGLgrr3GngdxqLLlgA-fXI6AMB_LQoKpHyBuzbkQqRX687GqUsr385q1wsyctVJyVKLiyC8XEtbZwFlas69xMXeFH-KnNshXFY8CjiTLSJSbxaUXNXQylKdynpR7Q9J0O6ym-6wso/s320/Chicago_skyline.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I said it, do something Chi Town, come at me!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
It's recently become cornhole weather at the bar, and let me tell you I could not be happier. I'm a member of team Pussy Lickers and we're pretty amazing, I mean we took out the Weird Beards the Hoorayhole Lickers, and the Substance Abusers, that's a pretty impressive record right? We weren't always the devastating force that causes grown men to weep and women and children to flee in terror. Nope, we were once mere mortals just like yourselves but then we solidified with a team name. <br />
Unity's a great thing, Op Ivy wrote a song about it, and I can see why. I mean, in a team mentality you're not just looking out for yourself you've got other people you don't wanna let down. I've got that going on in a number of facets of my life, the band, the house, the bar, and most recently team Pussy Lickers. There's been numerous times when I just don't wanna play a show, but if I don't give it my all the band's gonna be let down and that'd bum me out pretty significantly. <br />
Meh, I'm rambling and that means it's beer drinking time for uncle Pretzel<br />
Stay sassy y'all!<br />
-Pretzel<br />
P.S. Don't tell Chicago what I said, they're kinda scary sometimesThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-76726867247094718482011-04-04T13:50:00.000-07:002011-04-04T13:50:10.162-07:00My Hips Sure As Shit Don't LIeWhattup you mother fuckaaaaaz!? Today's rambling shall be tattoos, as I had an excellent and lengthy conversation whilst on a nature walk (yeah, that shit happened bro) about tattoos and the stigmas they entail. <br />
My generation has embraced tattooing with a vengeance. More and more 18-19 year olds are getting very conspicuous (think throat/hand area) pieces. Now that's cool and all, I'm obviously all for personal expression, however when you have no career and no marketable skills a throat tattoo is a very big strike against you in virtually any market you can think of. I've met countless kids who very early on, tattoo stretch scar and implant themselves all to hell with no idea what they're gonna do down the line, and it bums me out. I'm being a complete hypocrite here by the way, I've got my hands, throat, and even ears done, and I was a dumb fucking kid for doing it. When I was still piercing I wanted to go back to school for mortuary science, but when you work at a funeral home you not only have to embalm, but double as a funeral director, and lets be honest children, nobody wants a funion eared fuck like myself dealing with bereaved families. So yeah, I screwed myself out of a career because I wanted to look how I wanted to look, and it's sad watching other kids doing the same thing. I hear a lot of these same kids bitch and moan about how they're being discriminated against for their tattoos and heres the deal: getting tattooed is a decision that you consciously make. A deli owner not hiring someone because they're black is discrimination, a P.R. firm refusing to hire someone because they're gay is discrimination, but not hiring/ firing someone for a tattoo is absolutely not discrimination. The best explanation of this I've heard is this, jobs have dress codes, if your gnarly sturgis 96 neck piece doesn't fit into that, than sorry bout your luck broseph, you fucked yourself out of a job back in 96. <br />
That lengthy discourse out of the way, tattoos are undeniably awesome so get those ass antlers, get the Godsmack sun on your bicep and absolutely get that sweet hatchet man with juggalo lyfe underneath in old english, just don't bitch about it when your sweet tatties kill your dream of selling used Hondas.<br />
Tip your servers (especially Alicia, she's fuckin rad) and drive safely my peeps<br />
Oh and as always, send nudes<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-78878412836212826672011-03-31T13:10:00.000-07:002011-03-31T13:10:23.418-07:00I Disposed Of 7 Hooker's Bodies For My Boss And All I Got Was This Lousy Blog EntryWell helloooooo there my children, how's life? Alright that's enough outta you, it's my turn to babble.<br />
I've been reading Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis from the Red Hot Chili Poopers recently and it's fucking excellent. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfWUA_B1J_Ss1_Gr7BFf-yB4lYvCaAh5E98bgEArOEXGarpJn-82iHHXMDsJofiXGVJAPixnE0WXBEnCgfNPr88UcxwpALEXF92mHGNjwKT14WwItzwfyG00lmm278ObxZyrQ-8EEEf7Y/s1600/41XZKve6MNL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfWUA_B1J_Ss1_Gr7BFf-yB4lYvCaAh5E98bgEArOEXGarpJn-82iHHXMDsJofiXGVJAPixnE0WXBEnCgfNPr88UcxwpALEXF92mHGNjwKT14WwItzwfyG00lmm278ObxZyrQ-8EEEf7Y/s320/41XZKve6MNL.jpg" width="206" /></a></div><br />
The more I read about his zany exploits (heroin, coke, more heroin, banging his dad's girlfriend at age 11, more heroin, and some speedballs for good measure) the more I catch myself yelling at the movie screen of his life. "No Anthony Kiedis!" I'll say to myself, "If you OD with that chicano gangbanger you're never gonna live to record Under The Bridge!" It's a semi fucked up dynamic really, because though I sit and curse Mr. Kiedis for almost throwing a brilliant career away, I do it with enough caffiene, nicotine, and alcohol coursing through my bloodstream to kill a miniature pony.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I find myself wondering from time to time what would happen if tortured artists with fucked up childhoods would have equally brilliant output, had their pasts been a bit more normal. Take Rene Magritte for example.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5i5w38xG2XPI0mtlYlt5uJQRw9G1gGezrHNM9DdbPCza5s88Pn1Ufklpf0vc2DisX0TCVL9wdrKatMA0P5W4idgOGiUgXk8m8Gr-DvvQBJsJA4IccmdZD_G4pTq1FJYPSOuaaNFJFzs/s1600/artwork_images_424143444_356806_rene-magritte.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5i5w38xG2XPI0mtlYlt5uJQRw9G1gGezrHNM9DdbPCza5s88Pn1Ufklpf0vc2DisX0TCVL9wdrKatMA0P5W4idgOGiUgXk8m8Gr-DvvQBJsJA4IccmdZD_G4pTq1FJYPSOuaaNFJFzs/s320/artwork_images_424143444_356806_rene-magritte.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's the dude that painted this</td></tr>
</tbody></table>His mom killed herself when he was a kid. She jumped off a bridge and when her body was found her nightgown was draped over her face like a veil. Magritte had a recurring motif of covering his subject's faces. For example, one of my favorite paintings by him is called The Lovers. It features a couple kissinng with a veil draped over both their faces. This brings us back to my thesis question here. Magritte was an enormously talented artist, and probably would have been a phenomenal painter regardless of how he grew up, but would his work have been as good had he not suffered the pain of his mom's suicide? I like to imagine that he (or any other example you can dream up really) would simply produce equally amazing work with cheerier themes, but I guess that's a hypothetical I'll never know the answer to.<br />
Eh, I'm getting a little to highbrow here for my taste. Dicks, farts, bajinas, anal bleach and queefs. That's right turds, queefs, now there's a topic that needs addressed. <br />
Queefs, in day to day life are rather hilarious and should be giggled at. However should queefage occur in a sexual situation it must be approached delicately. You can either: A.) ignore it, power through and hope the moment hasn't been spoiled, or B.) acknowledge it giggle together like schoolgirls. I've used both methods before and I've found that option B. works a little better. I mean, you both know that shit happened, no reason for an unspoken awkwardness, and hopefully you've got enough chemistry with your partner that you can laugh at yourselves.<br />
So to summarize, Belgian surreal artist, and pussy farts. <br />
Talk amongst yourselves douchebags, I'm gonna go read on the front porch cuz its beautiful out today.<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-57474230314993910852011-03-09T14:36:00.000-08:002011-03-09T14:36:57.086-08:002011; Year Of The Granny PantiesI was awoken this morning by NOFX playing "The Agony of Victory" through my phone. Someone no call no showed at the bar today and due to my room's proximity to Damon's it's slowly becoming my job to relay messages to him when he's unwakeable by text or phonecall. <br />
I hate waking people up, I really do, mainly because I hate waking up. I hate it so much in fact that I have friends at the coffee shop that had no idea I had a personality until they saw me in the evening hours. <br />
Anyway, after I played harbinger of waking hours, Damon trudged off to the bar which left me here bored and car-less which means it's been a day of watching youtube videos and hanging with the puppies.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVIEz2bf523hvnTtJvUu1wmkL1C06YcKZ6aCXjyGkSv1ZbAkE4ztNxhyphenhyphenX6lQ2PYswM8QSSrs5ml7RMFHcB0pl6xOg63ZIRTm0-X5P91gelrKp926jtUngzy5l_gsB8O6Yvztj80yZtbY/s1600/IMG_0165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGVIEz2bf523hvnTtJvUu1wmkL1C06YcKZ6aCXjyGkSv1ZbAkE4ztNxhyphenhyphenX6lQ2PYswM8QSSrs5ml7RMFHcB0pl6xOg63ZIRTm0-X5P91gelrKp926jtUngzy5l_gsB8O6Yvztj80yZtbY/s320/IMG_0165.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jabba and Betty getting their cuddle on</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The dogs are kinda weird. They're stoked on life first thing in the morning, they want to run around, play, poop, eat, and get petted right when they wake up, but then they pretty immediately switch into nap mode. Around 7-8 or so they're up and all energy for a while and then it's right back to nap mode again.<br />
I mean I guess I'm kinda the same there, aside from work or band hours all I really wanna do is sit on the couch, still I find their energy fluctuations strange.<br />
<br />
I'm working 9-close tonight, and tonight, douchebags, is Jameson Night. Jameson is always on special at the bar but tonight there'll be some sort of schwag being passed out, and the Jameson Girls will be on hand to (presumably) pass out shots, which should be fun, plus I'm working with Rusty,so there'll be shenanigans a' plenty.<br />
<br />
We've got a show in Dayton this Saturday, I believe the venue's called O.E. so if you're in Dayton, cancel your saturday plans and come get fucked up with us instead!<br />
<br />
I'm out, lather rise repeat you cockmongers!<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-45536965068893310822011-02-28T09:18:00.000-08:002011-02-28T09:18:59.798-08:00Drunken Gas Station Shopping SpreeYup, there was a storm out there, no denying it. Little rain never hurt anybody though right?<br />
I covered my friend Rachel's shift at work yesterday. We were fairly slow today, so I just got to fuck off, make up some drinks and hang out with my customers for a while. After work as a reward for my fucking off, I bought myself a cosmic brownie, and a Fanta in a glass bottle. Soda never tastes better than it does out of a glass bottle and you can take that shit to the bank. <br />
Today I plan to:<br />
1.) Take a poop<br />
2.)Get some coffee<br />
3.)Go to the bank<br />
4.) Go hang out at a bar I don't work at<br />
5.)Actually answer my texts and phone calls for a change<br />
6.) I mentioned poop right?<br />
7.)Maybe buy myself some dope Rocawear jeans and be fly for the ladies, hoooollla!!<br />
<br />
Later douchenuggets!<br />
PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-90555471058574523592011-02-21T13:23:00.000-08:002011-02-21T13:23:18.588-08:00Are Brad and Jen an item again? Details inside...Hey there Involuntards! That by the way is what I'm calling our fans now, love your title, savor it my friends. <br />
The Sinking Ship is open now, it's pretty fuckin' bitching, all my coworkers are the bee's knee's, and the customers are grand for the most part. We're still in soft open mode, so give us a minute to find our footing before you swear at us and call us jerkfaces.<br />
The Involuntarys haven't practiced in a while and I had to cancel practice for like the third time in a row due to my closing shift tonight. Noah seems upset but it's nothing a slow jack and a ball rub won't cure. That's our band therapy, it's way easier than that Metallica "Some Kind Of Monster" horseshit.<br />
I'm painting my toenails pink and watching the Blues Blackhawks game (three colors in one sentence, whooah!) Yeah I guess I should explain that one huh? Once upon a 40, I was shithammered drunk and decided to paint my big toes a kind of sparkly purple shade. The next day we had a show and I played better than I ever had before, so painting my big toes has become my good luck ritual. I am to be completely truthful rather retardedly methodical about my superstitions. For instance, I always carry a PBR bottlecap with an ace of spades on it in my left pocket. Weird huh? Well that's your behind the scenes look at the rhythm section for today Involuntards, I'm gonna go jerk off then walk to work for a pre-shift drink.<br />
Hail Satan and such<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-85272666489753022262011-02-05T08:41:00.000-08:002011-02-05T08:41:04.638-08:00Little Trouble, Big ChinaGreetings turdnuggets!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Todays topic is halfassed self loathing. Bear with me judge, I just woke up and I'm still a little drunk but I swear I'm going somewhere with this. As you probably know, I live in Indianapolis Indiana (I would say I'm a proud hoosier, but I really hate that word so let's go with I like my state.) Being in the throbbing veiny pulsating...heart of the midwest, one thing that you have to deal with every year is snow, and usually lots of it. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRpW2EzPChhpBr603n441bMUBjN7lIzhIcxSt_g8YKntqUbHkkdRcJAqB0GpWQOwC-XP9e_dWXT3xs9I6Y3fRevBl0YR-BGR8z5dSYW92DjmAnAHhj4HRIJAvRbHOtGGR_MPfAw0Ku0c/s1600/wtf-pics-snowpocalypse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRpW2EzPChhpBr603n441bMUBjN7lIzhIcxSt_g8YKntqUbHkkdRcJAqB0GpWQOwC-XP9e_dWXT3xs9I6Y3fRevBl0YR-BGR8z5dSYW92DjmAnAHhj4HRIJAvRbHOtGGR_MPfAw0Ku0c/s320/wtf-pics-snowpocalypse.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is how Google image search defines "snowpocalypse"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>Snow separates the folks in this town into two camps. The first camp I'll call the meltdown camp. These people flip the fuck out, raid the grocery store for bread and distilled water, refuse to drive anywhere and when they finally do venture onto the roads, drive about 5 miles an hour. In short they meltdown and overreact. The other camp I'll dub camp macho. These are the people who you hear say "it snows every year, why is everybody freaking out?" They tend to be men who own large trucks with diamond plated tool boxes in the bed, but there are a few women and sedan drivers in camp macho.</div><div>Here's where today's theme kicks in, I'm a card carrying member of camp macho. I rip on everyone driving slowly and I point out that yeah, this is Indiana and we usually get at least one really hard snow a year so unless you just moved here you ought to be used to driving in it. That being said every time someone else makes the same "it snows every year" observation, my first thought is "wow, you're a smug cockbag and it's gonna be poetic justice when you slide into a tree." I dislike my view on the situation, just not enough to change it, and that, sirs and madams, is halfassery. </div><div>Here's another thing you may or may not know about me, I have big stretched out earlobes. I know shocker right? </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzuNiRUGWKCtQccuLM2kjzWKaGidwsej6KqOD2gMVoMgtKkeggVVVAy3DV-pYKEoM3nGHxICPCTocZlTzkKXyiZuEAY98E-Pkmz33jqu6dP7cxyUFKbcrJmYCSSCtLJSM5B7nhouN6_E/s1600/big-big-ears.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzuNiRUGWKCtQccuLM2kjzWKaGidwsej6KqOD2gMVoMgtKkeggVVVAy3DV-pYKEoM3nGHxICPCTocZlTzkKXyiZuEAY98E-Pkmz33jqu6dP7cxyUFKbcrJmYCSSCtLJSM5B7nhouN6_E/s320/big-big-ears.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And how Google image defines "big stupid ears"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>Anyways a couple of days ago I broke one of my plugs whilst intoxicated, so I'm shopping for new ones online as we speak. Cash is pretty tight in the rhythm section at the moment, so buying fucking jewelry of all things is totally a vain and petty luxury purchase, but since I'm pressing on with the shopping I am apparently both vain and petty. Half assed self loathing folks.</div><div>On a fun side note, I'm sitting across from Damon right now wearing gym shorts with no underwear underneath and I'm fairly certain that at least one of my testicles is visible. He hasn't noticed yet, as he's pretty deeply involved in a game of Splinter Cell, but there's still a vague chance that he'll catch an accidental passing glance, and that comrades, makes me giggle.</div><div>In band news, we have a show coming up on February 12th at the Dojo with The Blacklist Royals The Circle City Deacons, and another band whose name I forget and am too lazy to look up right now. If you're unfamiliar with them BLR are a fucking great band and are at the beginning of what I'm predicting will be a meteoric rise to stardom, and The Deacons are (see previous entry.) So yeah, come out catch a gnarly show and maybe catch a glimpse of one of my testes!</div><div>That's all for today, carry on my wayward sons</div><div>-Pretzel</div>The Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-63203015028194137522011-01-19T16:01:00.000-08:002011-01-19T16:01:18.815-08:00More Like Square City Ushers, Buuuuuuuurrn!!Greetings once more Mexicants, and H<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><b>ü</b></span>sker Don'ts!<br />
I'm writing to you today on behalf of some friends o' mine The Circle City Deacons. I realize that "friends" part did just expose my journalistic bias, but hey, though I envy his mustache, I never claimed to be Kronkite.<br />
The term "bonertastic ska exposionaries" is thrown around a lot these days, but few and far between are bands quite explosionary or bonertastic as the Circle City Deacons. <br />
While most scholars agree that ska died years ago in the study at the hands of Colonel Mustard(plug,) The Circle City Deacons are doing a damn fine job resurrecting it. If the word ska puts a repetitive upstokey gimmicky third wave taste in your mouth, relax, that's not what the Deacons are doing at all. They blend traditional ska with reggae and rocksteady to create a sound akin to early Slackers or a more dynamic Aggrolites. They're generally relaxed and low key, but have a driving upbeat groove, and their live show is (even at their drunkest) a polished and well rehearsed machine. <br />
Listen, like I said these guys are my friends, I grew up with them, lived with them, and drank gallons upon gallons of rum with them, but for my money these guys are, fresh out of the gate, one of the best bands in town. <br />
So there you go, when the ska train rolls back through the station and The Deacons are playing stadium tours, buying islands and doin' lines of coke off their supermodel girlfriends on air force one, you remember who broke the story to ya<br />
Stay thirsty dear readers, and remember; if you can touch 'em they're real.<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-22876894035432542922010-12-30T08:14:00.000-08:002010-12-30T08:14:09.269-08:0011am Whiskey Shortage PanicShitbags!<br />
Cockmongers!<br />
Douchehounds!<br />
Decent, loving, hardworking friends of mine!<br />
Unite and rejoice, for it is once more, new post time!<br />
Last night at the Mel, a friend and I were talking about the subject of interaction between customer and salesperson, and (I think?) I promised to blog about it. <br />
More specifically, we were talking about the differences of people growing up with and without experience in the service industry. The first point raised is one that I think is pretty universally accepted, with the exception of the people it ought to apply to. I feel that in order to graduate college you should have to work a service industry job. Bear with me debutantes and celebutards, I'll explain my reasoning. As most people who have worked in a food/beverage service capacity know, the public is, in general, a vast slobbering mongoloid-ish group of bastards, whiners, shit talkers, and non tippers. And simply put, to avoid being a mongoloid-ish, whining, shit talking, non tipping bastard, you really need to deal with their kind, all up close and personal like. Nothing makes you think twice when eyeing a tip jar, talking to a waitress, or coming into a bar or restaurant five minutes before closing time like some service experience. <br />
See, when you've been there you get an entirely different perspective. You start to think "wow, this guy probably depends on the buck or two I throw in here," "I know I said medium rare, but fuck it, rare's fine. She's got four other tables and she looks pretty frazzled," and "Nope, they're quite ready to blow this joint, I'll go to taco bell."<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7gZ_N9VBK97FgvF0BCefQsSHfj7imeOdwYkhEmAEzOiwtZ96U4N8ZyD7ifwXt6a71eYyRt0DQb_DcfAQmJjFNLt-N5Y8Y1D0QkTKj_czFlraDL99_Gb1nnQJISURPzqg5i7TCIGw_GUc/s1600/20050812015850_taco+bell+sauce+packets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7gZ_N9VBK97FgvF0BCefQsSHfj7imeOdwYkhEmAEzOiwtZ96U4N8ZyD7ifwXt6a71eYyRt0DQb_DcfAQmJjFNLt-N5Y8Y1D0QkTKj_czFlraDL99_Gb1nnQJISURPzqg5i7TCIGw_GUc/s320/20050812015850_taco+bell+sauce+packets.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taco Bell: because you're drunk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It's a pretty basic concept but it's one that apparently a lot of people are missing, because, fuck me if I don't see bartenders, waitresses, tattoo artists, hairdressers and the lot get treated like shit every day. You heard it here first, shit's gotta stop folks. Just be a decent person mmkay?<br />
<br />
The second point has to do with (subjectively I guess) cool jobs. My previously mentioned friend, is dating a bartender and owner of the (in my opinion) coolest bar in town. From what I'm told, his kids still think he's a total dork though. Think I just made that example up? Well fuck you first off. Second, here's another. One of my tattoo artists is semi famous at least. He's appeared in a lot of magazines, won a lot of awards, and people travel pretty far to get tattooed by him. Yet from what he tells me, his kids are in no way impressed by any of this. Now I'm no expert in cool, far from it. In fact, the shit you kids listen to is lame and probably too loud, and your clothes are silly and ill fitting. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCheM_hGruXX7xNwh61Dg0atouqR6SfyeQUbqsh1QKt7KNjVuA0zca_sM3kmVCZmO_xXJ9QBz_GJlxYO5hXaR3r_FaUYkOoPKE4ht0c2-URbNvVNtbsK1HACc8kvoyrk9d0H1FYZwzVA/s1600/Biz-Markie-f01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCheM_hGruXX7xNwh61Dg0atouqR6SfyeQUbqsh1QKt7KNjVuA0zca_sM3kmVCZmO_xXJ9QBz_GJlxYO5hXaR3r_FaUYkOoPKE4ht0c2-URbNvVNtbsK1HACc8kvoyrk9d0H1FYZwzVA/s320/Biz-Markie-f01.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what cool looks like to me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>However I'm baffled by how the offspring of people who I consider to be well respected pillars of cooledom, think that their parents are any less than that.<br />
Think about it, if you grow up with a "counter culture" kind of parent, and you decide to do some rebelling, how do you do that? Start watching Glenn Beck? Furiously organize your sock drawer? Lock your room and blare elevator music? I dunno, I have no conclusion here, other that teenagers are fuckin' weird. Yeah, I was, you were, and current teens are. They're strange and confusing, but eventually booze will level the playing field, so fuck it.<br />
<br />
As always, if someone asks you if you're a god, you say yes<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-76088748834000947992010-12-18T11:26:00.000-08:002010-12-18T11:26:09.288-08:00Oedipal RhinoceriToday I'm working on a t shirt design for The Sinking Ship. It's a pin up girl, and I'll be honest with you dear readers, I really wanna bone her. I think that means it's a good design right? I mean pin ups historically are kind of an idealized notion of what/who the artist and target audience would like to bang, so my desire to hump a bunch of pixels is completely justified isn't it? Eh, I'm using Damon's computer so I suppose the sweet sweet love I would make to that .jpg file would be a bit of a party foul friendship-wise. The point that I'm really trying to drive home here though is, when we print 'em, buy a goddamned t shirt you cretins, cuz I worked really hard.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_lphmag5sWADjuml_2xEUItd2z264s7Qh839V3MGxGYh02OUaRH3cf8OnzGfkOLCE3ws8LUIc1SzeuDGjsG4gYlBzlb2xQhIgCohQIiQMfX5WfMNi7q4F9jN0zydoauoec5B3JtjOSU/s1600/s-and-m-Darth-Vader-Costume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_lphmag5sWADjuml_2xEUItd2z264s7Qh839V3MGxGYh02OUaRH3cf8OnzGfkOLCE3ws8LUIc1SzeuDGjsG4gYlBzlb2xQhIgCohQIiQMfX5WfMNi7q4F9jN0zydoauoec5B3JtjOSU/s320/s-and-m-Darth-Vader-Costume.jpg" width="197" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is related to nothing, I just like adding pictures</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
The old band-sky is working on a new cover song. I'm not gonna tell you what song it is, but it is gonna be pretty gnarly once we get it down. The goal is to have it ready for our new years ever show at the Mel, so ya know, maybe come out and find out if we've learned it or not. Even is we haven't though you should probably buy me and Damon a shot. Matt too come to think of it, but not Noah. Never Noah.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah, go read <a href="http://www.drunkard.com/issues/01-02/01_02_booze_rules.htm">this</a>, it's pretty great.<br />
<br />
I'm out, damn the man and such<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-32090049809011506082010-12-09T18:45:00.000-08:002010-12-09T18:45:00.934-08:00CHILdren????<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So i know alot of you out there in the interweb world are wondering why me and my wife michelle dont have kids yet. Granted, our kids would rule the planet, But i didnt know most of these thing were even wrong. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOGBSyFA50uM87gZMLvpaegnHQeFOTIaykFmMNFzzmCGUMIWlLulaZ1l3rYtQof7AwpivPJ3Rd5Be3HCPp3JWKq1RNsho67bzpo86XSy5M4Qwc-y3w4TIHn98J-zwAJyJ0acIe6sUCo0/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOGBSyFA50uM87gZMLvpaegnHQeFOTIaykFmMNFzzmCGUMIWlLulaZ1l3rYtQof7AwpivPJ3Rd5Be3HCPp3JWKq1RNsho67bzpo86XSy5M4Qwc-y3w4TIHn98J-zwAJyJ0acIe6sUCo0/s320/baby.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6d-VKwTNLmyAAYVwLUF0pUDU58ibwrmJmKsQeXuZ-AbE-DzpK7Pb5q9IHf_bUajgwYSqdRE78ojTpS4fmw1TGuiTxwVUkRx2tJ1LP0qsWBlLZ0vQQN1UBpJd1qEi8FGXSsMPzoOZEDiM/s1600/baby001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6d-VKwTNLmyAAYVwLUF0pUDU58ibwrmJmKsQeXuZ-AbE-DzpK7Pb5q9IHf_bUajgwYSqdRE78ojTpS4fmw1TGuiTxwVUkRx2tJ1LP0qsWBlLZ0vQQN1UBpJd1qEi8FGXSsMPzoOZEDiM/s320/baby001.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">cheers, </div><div style="text-align: center;">damon!</div>The Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-31523765381818801582010-12-02T12:03:00.000-08:002010-12-02T12:28:48.844-08:00Doolichand!Morning urrybody! OK it's not actually morning, but I just woke up a bit ago so in my world it's fucking morning, if you don't like the way I choose to categorize when morning is, well, there's the door jerkwad.<br />
<br />
Still there? Good, I'm not sure why I got all confrontational there. Let's chalk it up to low caffeine levels in the bloodstream and we'll Hakuna Matata that shit away. <br />
Today I'm sitting at home with my dear friend/ roommate/co-worker Michelle. We're playing Xbox and drinkin' coffee like there's no tomorrow, so needless to say today is going well. Earlier there was some NHL 11 going on, but currently I'm just typin' away and watching her play Fable 3. There are some pretty gnarly victorian steampunk-y looking propaganda posters during the load screen, which I'm pretty fond of. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh18pvFUll1BE0wes2B9mioF9KeifDAQ9eJ1jvzl_FxqoUbVXryAI0y4PbrXNWlAz9eB_RvJJDUbvILAC1ADHTyC9eUrQt-9OZlrM5Xn9zs7drjaXfKXoT4bK7DWdAzdI6dVsidn2JAuiw/s1600/fable3poster1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh18pvFUll1BE0wes2B9mioF9KeifDAQ9eJ1jvzl_FxqoUbVXryAI0y4PbrXNWlAz9eB_RvJJDUbvILAC1ADHTyC9eUrQt-9OZlrM5Xn9zs7drjaXfKXoT4bK7DWdAzdI6dVsidn2JAuiw/s320/fable3poster1.png" width="248" /></a></div><br />
NASA just made their much hyped announcement about astrobiology, and I gotta say I'm disappointed. Yes I understand the implications of the discovery of the bacteria, but I really wanted either a half autopsied withering pathetic alien desperately gasping for air, or an H.R. Geiger-esque alien freaking out and smashing itself up against some foot thick bulletproof glass. Ah well, some lame ass microbe that thinks arsenic is tasty will have to do I suppose.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AFZSIDytRQ0HmALNIiFGxJN6edMkiwg3pi8pggWAUtrKjg-OEVRIa1mKTcBXmpl1uOJsJqDFxgguHcWZ-o8zs0gBcp2Po50yrRCwjhu59UedPgs9IK-KC7fzuIQiwte6sfFUNvZN9S4/s1600/yoda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7AFZSIDytRQ0HmALNIiFGxJN6edMkiwg3pi8pggWAUtrKjg-OEVRIa1mKTcBXmpl1uOJsJqDFxgguHcWZ-o8zs0gBcp2Po50yrRCwjhu59UedPgs9IK-KC7fzuIQiwte6sfFUNvZN9S4/s320/yoda.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fuckin' Bacteria...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tonight the band practices, and I think we may start working on a cover song. I'm pretty stoked on it, we haven't really done any covers in quite a while, so it should be a good times all around. Who knows maybe we'll play it at our next show (New Years Eve, Melody Inn!) <br />
Well homies and homiettes, I'm getting hungry and I want more coffee, so entertain yourselves for a while and maybe find me an alien or two.<br />
Most tremendous ups to Brooklyn<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-84230387174564582652010-11-20T15:40:00.000-08:002010-11-20T15:40:40.134-08:00SOOOOOO TIRED!!!<div style="text-align: center;"> Hello you schmucks!</div><div style="text-align: center;"> so ive been really busy and havent wrote in a while and thought i would a little today. Not much as been going on except writing new songs and working on a bar me and my friend Andy are opening. So pretty much all my time is down at the bar until it opens probably write before christmas.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYEU5Jlawb3Q14HakiH__Kmf3IHXJPXkogKWQSw-1iQwizC019w4La55XOeoOz17SYAddFR8OeiKMebqyyyU15fO7IUaohhkIi6Hfzswd6bIEkI6TVH7bLBHkCF9NDvRJ8isRsnjR-P4/s1600/IMG_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicYEU5Jlawb3Q14HakiH__Kmf3IHXJPXkogKWQSw-1iQwizC019w4La55XOeoOz17SYAddFR8OeiKMebqyyyU15fO7IUaohhkIi6Hfzswd6bIEkI6TVH7bLBHkCF9NDvRJ8isRsnjR-P4/s320/IMG_0088.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">So last night im working at the bar and waiting to go to Louisville to go see Mike our old guitarists new band play. After Gary picks me up at 10 pm we head to Louisville wich is pretty much a straight drive down 65. We have to stop at a gas station outside of columbus so gary can by some fake pot, Called K2. gary loves to get high. And in the bathroom i buy for a small fee of 75 cents a GLOW IN THE DARK TINGLER RING!!!!!! IT seriously looks like its made outta chicken fat. Thats the color of it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiW86AsoYeEzZt7DmRsp1iC1k3Zmjhwvyy2S_GDw892wvZOxHvlqOgZGUmtd8lkxAjLOOhfBq9VCiJiFsEyarbUuugIlTQlItIoPRl0T1u6gdFy8eKBpf12msB075ItZKU4A-Qxt49qI/s1600/Photo+on+2010-11-20+at+18.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiW86AsoYeEzZt7DmRsp1iC1k3Zmjhwvyy2S_GDw892wvZOxHvlqOgZGUmtd8lkxAjLOOhfBq9VCiJiFsEyarbUuugIlTQlItIoPRl0T1u6gdFy8eKBpf12msB075ItZKU4A-Qxt49qI/s320/Photo+on+2010-11-20+at+18.27.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Im gonna try to use it on the wife but id be surprised if shed let me, Just cause it looks like dirty chicken fat, plus i bought it in the shitter at a gas station. So we're off to the monkey wrench. </div><div style="text-align: center;">The monkey wrench is a really neat bar and its about midnight on the dot when we get there. Mikes band has already played and the place is kinda dead but everyone is really nice. Its great to see Mike and meet his band and friends and also John from Falls City Beer is there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuJ6MxDEaKvUYBJ9RgglOVxseipXj1KlKYcjHhKkjrJCwNCA6YNL4nxuKNGpSdJlo8OmMoniuTgpGqXy7lY3KEoHiAcaAIq7YketFh8YQgBOOYc78J4hi63i0Q7JqdQHhTC88K2NTfv4/s1600/fallscitywhitecan1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuJ6MxDEaKvUYBJ9RgglOVxseipXj1KlKYcjHhKkjrJCwNCA6YNL4nxuKNGpSdJlo8OmMoniuTgpGqXy7lY3KEoHiAcaAIq7YketFh8YQgBOOYc78J4hi63i0Q7JqdQHhTC88K2NTfv4/s320/fallscitywhitecan1.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">John buys me beer and shots and then takes us all down the road to the new spot of the new Falls City Brewery. Its still empty but the Bright Green Falls City van is there and there plenty of bottled beer. After runing around this huge place we find a stash of wheel cheers and begin the first annual Falls City Wheel chair derby. I didnt race, I was the sexy check who dropped the bandanna to let the was begin. After what felt like many rounds of races, Gary was the champ! if your not first your last!. after our victory we said our goodbyes and headed back to indy where the Best Pal and Wife where still up! Ended the night with some Drinking.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">that is all my friends, not to interesting but i havent wrote in a while. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">cheers mother fuckers!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">damon</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>The Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-27619460356162873842010-11-16T15:43:00.000-08:002010-11-16T15:45:21.290-08:00Ruuuun to The HiiiiiiiiiiillsCheck it out I made a header for this blog thingy! I need feedback on it though, what're your thoughts my friends, is it too much? Too gaudy? Eh, screw you hypothetical people who don't like it, I think it's pretty rad, it's even a mustardy shade similar to my favorite blog Bad Sandwich Chronicles, cuz I'm all about subtle little touches like that. It's how I let y'all know I care.<br />
Let's see here, what's going on in Involuntaryville? We played a show with the Circle City Deacons, who by the way you should all <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/The-Circle-City-Deacons/128403693864619">check out</a>, it'll be quite worth your time. We had a few technical difficulties, but overall I think our set was pretty good. The Deacons totally rocked and I got to sing along to their cover of The Slackers' Old Dog. The bar we played at was pretty cool, and they were making "Involuntary Punch" that night. I didn't have any due to my distaste for mixed drinks, but it was pretty rad having a drink named after us for a night.<br />
We don't really have any shows set up for a while, which is a little bittersweet. Playing shows is probably my favorite thing in the world, but our down time means we get to work on some new songs, so I suppose it's not a bad trade off. We're working on a song Matt wrote right now, it's a great song, but it's quite difficult to learn, so you'd all better cheer really loudly when we play it for ya.<br />
If you weren't aware of this already, Damon's building and opening a <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Indianapolis-IN/The-Sinking-Ship/106466079375723">bar</a>. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZ3T-Qhy3QiS0BTQQds4sswYIAC469TqNu6Mim7OzuUtvoCdxePkjE37PIuBYouCrz7fNSyqNGpERTqw5y3hyphenhyphenvSnfHc3LYvBv4MWIxSPcSbhuD2NvZ5jNw5rmOSh7z70FtrINij3kZqI/s1600/38286_139238129431851_106466079375723_270600_4853236_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZ3T-Qhy3QiS0BTQQds4sswYIAC469TqNu6Mim7OzuUtvoCdxePkjE37PIuBYouCrz7fNSyqNGpERTqw5y3hyphenhyphenvSnfHc3LYvBv4MWIxSPcSbhuD2NvZ5jNw5rmOSh7z70FtrINij3kZqI/s320/38286_139238129431851_106466079375723_270600_4853236_n.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shit's gonna be awesome!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
He's been quite busy jackhammering, laying pipe, and other things that don't sound like sexual references. I do, however have his word that he will post on here soon, so keep your eyes peeled for his triumphant return. <br />
Since I can't think of anything else worth sharing, I'm gonna draw this edition of Shits Ridiculous to a close.<br />
Send Nudes<br />
PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-59627038943391692192010-11-06T12:45:00.000-07:002010-11-06T12:45:00.649-07:00Him again? I wanna hear from the singer guy!<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Whattup there internet? I was gonna wait on Damon to update this but I'm bored at work so you get another serving of me today, we're stuck with each other so let's make the best of it okay? Let's see, I guess I should talk about the KISS show huh? If we haven't mentioned it on our smash hit blog before, The Involuntarys covered KISS for halloween. There, backstory established, on to the witty banter. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0Pp6N-YQ4EgbYRZppPm_8FT_N66j4ZLU6vC7IyqjzhXeLHjRQToQQGYuxo7N1HzACQ36cASwRHfLmGTiwRUyITBpfulcaoCaWn2Alpaujv5CvM0wIFZvNLDs8pyp3rIx11HTRkAe6mo/s1600/DSCN7829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0Pp6N-YQ4EgbYRZppPm_8FT_N66j4ZLU6vC7IyqjzhXeLHjRQToQQGYuxo7N1HzACQ36cASwRHfLmGTiwRUyITBpfulcaoCaWn2Alpaujv5CvM0wIFZvNLDs8pyp3rIx11HTRkAe6mo/s320/DSCN7829.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, that happened</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Man, there was a huge light up sign courtesy of our friend Rusty, confetti cannons courtesy of our friend Gary, bitchin' costumes courtesy of everyone's girlfriend/wife/roommate who took pity on my pathetic ass, so to summarize...it was pretty awesome. I'm told that Greg from Punk Rock Night was standing on the bar to watch us, which is quite flattering. I had to sing "Beth" which, to be honest, I did a pretty piss poor job of. But hey, it was a one time deal and everyone else was pretty drunk too so no harm no foul right? So there's my show summary, sorry if it's a bit scant, I was hammered. Our guitarist "Lee" has a <a href="http://uncheckedaggressionindy.blogspot.com/2010/11/ok-so-its-been-bit.html">pretty cool description</a> of the show if you don't mind reading filthy leadist propaganda. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpQqdjVHP4Y3wK3cecXgwvgo4VvWIjlQ1i6p4eOahVrDU-wHlUUf3sOHhQq_SN-e7DZ4Ovu_b0Twy6qmb5NFR6tPJT78mHtndMbRFAKSGz3EtTYBuYCg995nmFwXHWYXAvHo9diaPJVA/s1600/DSCN7916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpQqdjVHP4Y3wK3cecXgwvgo4VvWIjlQ1i6p4eOahVrDU-wHlUUf3sOHhQq_SN-e7DZ4Ovu_b0Twy6qmb5NFR6tPJT78mHtndMbRFAKSGz3EtTYBuYCg995nmFwXHWYXAvHo9diaPJVA/s320/DSCN7916.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoy the page views Lee</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
After the show I helped load out into the trailer and promptly passed out in the back of the van. <br />
<br />
...lazy segue to slightly embarrassing yet hilarious story about my end of the night...<br />
<br />
Now if you aren't a heavy drinker, first off kudos to you. I'm not being sarcastic, you will most certainly outlive me and probably don't make an ass of yourself as often as I do. Second, losing portions of the day is probably not something you deal with often. I have an already fairly hazy memory, but when you add copious amounts of liquor like I have been known to do, shit gets real spotty real quick. The morning after the Halloween show I woke up in my bed still in my Peter Criss tights and makeup, quite confused, due to the fact that I didn't exactly remember anything after getting off stage. From what Damon told me, I stumbled into the house after having disappeared for several hours, and when asked how I got home or who took me home, I would only yell "the car outside!" I wanted to check my phone for clues, but I had left that in a backpack I brought to store shit in due to the pocketlessness of spandex, and the backpack was nowhere to be found. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMlHu3W6mVQwhjgdgUjd6v_NFMyC-Qhgn0ECPVWjIMJREnjboOS50UOlkwGjqve_2MMdNfo1jn15Sr0Ir_cSgLZ-BonQYiza6ZBom-eIP8Mx2xCapvCVJamOMBScpEtWZQUfvWPMVARw/s1600/DSCN7897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSMlHu3W6mVQwhjgdgUjd6v_NFMyC-Qhgn0ECPVWjIMJREnjboOS50UOlkwGjqve_2MMdNfo1jn15Sr0Ir_cSgLZ-BonQYiza6ZBom-eIP8Mx2xCapvCVJamOMBScpEtWZQUfvWPMVARw/s320/DSCN7897.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? pocketlessness</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Armed with Damon's testimony, and my (like I said before, hazy on a good day, which this was not) memory, I spend most of the day wondering how exactly I had gotten home, and hoping I hadn't drunkenly offended anyone. I kinda ruined my thunder on the end of this story earlier if you remember; I passed out in the back of the van.<br />
Yes Virginia, that's the climactic end of this story, drunkie fell asleep in the back of the van, nobody noticed him and confusion ensued, hope it brightened your day a little. <br />
I think I'm gonna call it a day on this "typing out words" shit, as I've achieved my goal of making part of the day go by faster. Now if blogging could make me some breakfast, that'd be a different story, due to the lack of delicious hashbrowns on my keyboard though, I'm officialy donesicles.<br />
send nudes and potato based breakfast foods<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394329729816288373.post-38244311938893698142010-10-27T22:49:00.000-07:002010-10-28T05:02:03.069-07:00Di-wrecked Hit Part Something Or Another/<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLlpUpWyPkWo4nBkc096xcShNG76sbqs0HVRGkV7N9kPL6f1I4d5_Rtxkjx7re-5U_S5HmCrKsIQz4_uqStVBiaUxrewZWG5jOUXLPIX4UeGQihQ4u997o23CZbSzveaL5ksYwZKsb8UM/s1600/580935867_2064411216_562212694_1288239675135.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLlpUpWyPkWo4nBkc096xcShNG76sbqs0HVRGkV7N9kPL6f1I4d5_Rtxkjx7re-5U_S5HmCrKsIQz4_uqStVBiaUxrewZWG5jOUXLPIX4UeGQihQ4u997o23CZbSzveaL5ksYwZKsb8UM/s320/580935867_2064411216_562212694_1288239675135.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Drink 1.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">PBR tall boy and a shot of Evan Williams, Damonicus and I are watching South Park and eagerly awaiting the presidential guest spot on the Daily Show. I think if the president guest starred randomly on one show a month, advertising revenue would go way way up. Imagine with me that this policy I just made up and Obama's presidency coincided with "Friends." Okay first, imagine the theme song playing, stupid little hand claps and all. All of a sudden, the fucking president pops onto a couch holding an umbrella, all the while wearing a lime green turtleneck and bowler hat. We both know you'd love the shit out of that. If you think I'm wrong, imagine the same thing but with Lincoln instead. Now you're wrong and can't shake the fact that you just might be a racist.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">If you see my best pal/roommate/bass player/singer/only person who responds to my drunken texts between now and October 30th, you had damn well better refer to him as Gene Simmons. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Drink 2.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Second verse same as the first. We're watching a documentary on Shane MacGowan after the daily show. My cousin from Ireland (who's not really my cousin, but a good friend who, when he's in the U.S. stays with my family and visa versa for us in Ireland [see, cousin is a lot shorter than saying all that]) has a brother, who used to be Shane MacGowan's personal driver. I'm not sure(oh shit Obama just walked out!) where that was going, but I'm sitting at home, getting really stupid drunk, and writing about watching a movie about a man, who's famous for getting really stupid drunk, and that's at least a little bit amusing on some level right? Meh, shot of whiskey time.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomyNIb0wnjlHL2mmc8O99tRAUWqcgZ2RjJBIsMkBzuo0uWLVjbRtoN4NqyB0YmGB-Ab5M-CtbIGZB_U1eD9IXAGBsvrv0w7E5kSQ_4K9UEPaSKsMdmcAtvRG2aEEUBpMv9sY5ArdtbdA/s1600/580972773_2064559063_0+(1).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhomyNIb0wnjlHL2mmc8O99tRAUWqcgZ2RjJBIsMkBzuo0uWLVjbRtoN4NqyB0YmGB-Ab5M-CtbIGZB_U1eD9IXAGBsvrv0w7E5kSQ_4K9UEPaSKsMdmcAtvRG2aEEUBpMv9sY5ArdtbdA/s320/580972773_2064559063_0+(1).jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A message from Damon. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><i>As I float towards buzzed land, I realize I love President Obama, but I hate that he uses the word "folks" as often as he does. Fuck he just did it again. I rejoice in the fact that we have another bottle of bourbon. Big ups to Brooklyn, fuck what you heard.</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
Drink 3.<br />
To be fair, drinks one and two included shots of whiskey and there was another in between drink 2 and drink 3. Technically I suppose this is drink 7, but that kind of brings about a whole Fahrenheit to Celsius argument about documenting alcoholic beverages, and I just don't have it in me to pander to 2 separate systems of measurement. Plus, to be totally honest with you guys, I'm now on drink 8 if you include that shot i took before I started this sentence. Alright, I'm going to think up a solution here. Refer to all my drinks not by numbers but by actors in my favorite movies? I think so Drink number John Candy in Cool Runnings! <br />
I love you Shane Mac Gowan, but I cannot understand a goddamned word you say. It's not just the Irish accent either, I know how that accent works. Take any word with a T+H combination, then insert a hard T sound. Thank becomes tank, third becomes turd, and so on. Seriously Shane, you're an amazing musician but you look like a Celtic Meth head and I don't understand anything that you don't put in singing form whatsoever. I'm not making this up at all, go listen to any pogues song, then image search their lead singer. Beautiful not from this earth, shouldn't be allowed to exist in a mere mortal fucking singing voice and yet...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvrWJK6Anq2wupIH_Qzz1L4qf8t3pgKsNnZWAW58dVeGZiMzon1Lp7aKVy-i3rKk9HqIt4Z2xjlH8NMfCahd9-BPJtdH_DvOb_hxdkMQqmgJNbZzR8sYJGrfW4-Brx2-RSWs2oQSgAmk/s1600/macgowan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvrWJK6Anq2wupIH_Qzz1L4qf8t3pgKsNnZWAW58dVeGZiMzon1Lp7aKVy-i3rKk9HqIt4Z2xjlH8NMfCahd9-BPJtdH_DvOb_hxdkMQqmgJNbZzR8sYJGrfW4-Brx2-RSWs2oQSgAmk/s320/macgowan.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>that's rabid mulleted squirrel man is what it's coming out of.<br />
<br />
A message I forced out of Damon while Michelle fitted him for his Kiss costume:<br />
<i>The only thing better than drinking whiskey or beer, is drinking whiskey and beer with your wife and your best pal and I'm doing both!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN54Fv-4mFIqLZ8xIxkMADUDUHU9lggUfGYpPU0uwcZv-siScZthyphenhyphenHtLqGdLY-aws3qybbpsMdMpCP2ebiFBkXNPXkFPftd4OTrgU215E2migVsfcndH3qN7u_9p4fA1ZUDcyR2JgIrOE/s1600/580972647_2064558560_0.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN54Fv-4mFIqLZ8xIxkMADUDUHU9lggUfGYpPU0uwcZv-siScZthyphenhyphenHtLqGdLY-aws3qybbpsMdMpCP2ebiFBkXNPXkFPftd4OTrgU215E2migVsfcndH3qN7u_9p4fA1ZUDcyR2JgIrOE/s320/580972647_2064558560_0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><i><br />
</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I feel that I should mention about now, that my best pal Gene Simmons, has to wake up at 6:30 tomorrow and, despite it being my day off, I have to wake up at 8:30 to get tattooed. Yeah, we do this shit for the fans. I'd like to see Justin Bieber forgo sleep to entertain his friends by pounding shots and making observations about life and the things within his direct line of sight. Seriously though that would be funny, I can't imagine he handles his booze well. <br />
<br />
Note from Damon:<br />
<i>Shane McGowan's first band was called the Nipplerectors, but their band made them change their name to The Nips</i><br />
<br />
I'm gonna make Mac n' Cheese and then indulge in Drink number Steve Buscemi in Airheads.<br />
<br />
...long pause for food preparation break...<br />
<br />
After long contemplation, I've come to this conclusion: Talent it would seem, is something that if you weren't born with, you can't cultivate to anything especially meaningful, and or good via practice, hard work, dedication, etc. (e.g. William Hung) In that same vein of thought, it would seem that if you're born with a talent , it's gonna shine through no matter what combination of gin and Sinead O'Connor you shovel on top of it. <br />
Seriously though, to clarify, in most cases, in order to be good at something you have to practice a whole fuck-ton, but if you weren't born with that certain intangible spark that makes talented folks tick, well sorry about your luck Stefani Germanotta, you're only hope is the 3 Ms: Makeup, Muppets and Meat.<br />
<br />
Ugh, my dear roommates are going to bed, which means I have no one to bounce my brilliant ideas off of any more, and should probably also go to sleep.<br />
<br />
Send nudes!<br />
For real<br />
c'mon<br />
<br />
-PretzelThe Rhythm Sectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02613114788572265379noreply@blogger.com2