I totally have a BANGover from this shit. Even I only wanted to see Redbeard singing in Disfear, all the bands ripped it- Parasytic and Triac especially. But I chose to skip work to recover today.

Hey guys, I totally bought Guitar Hero rocks the 80's. After I get back from MLIW, I'll be breaking that shit out. JUST SAYIN.

After I had left David Goldberg's house to go home, one of my old clients called me, horribly drunk and was like, "It's on & poppin, joe! I'm 'bout ta come to da studio in a minute! Tonight my kid is with the woman, so I'm 'bout to go to da club"

At that point, I attempt to sever the phone conversation, but he goes, "AY YO, joe! where you at? Meet we at da strip club! It's da joint!"

I didn't want to go cause I hear those things can be gross and a huge money pit, but my client Leo goes, "I'll pay for your shit! Meet me there!"

I already knew where the place was.
I wanted to go there when I heard that a co-worker at my child-care employer danced there with her mom. But I never got around to it.

I get there and he's outside, bouncing up and down like half crackhead, half kid-in-a-candy store. "Come on, we gotta go!"

He pays for my shit and I sit down and attempt to take the whole thing in. It was dark and mostly lit by blacklight. The girls were crazily hot, no, like... seriously blazing. I guess this is the place to work when you're a stripper. But the focus of the place wasn't stage acts, it was totally all about lapdances.

"JOEEEEEE!!!!" I hear from the corner of the room. Leo is getting a dance from someone while screaming, "GET CHA-ASS OVER HERE MAN! YOU NEED TO GET A DANCE!" and he hands me $30 (the fee for a topless full-grind dance) and sends me off.

As I watched the girls on the stage, about ten girls had come and gone off of my lap, chatting me up and telling me all about the place, offering dances. One girl was quite charismatic, and convinced me it was a must that I get a dance from her. She wasn't super hot, but totally cute and it was amazing how well she went from talking to me about music to finding my penis through my pants and working it to oblivion. It was better than I thought it would be, with my hands everywhere except nips and lips. I couldn't help laugh when Leo came up behind and started freaking my girl. "YEAHHHH JOE- THAT'S DAT SHIT!" After the laughter had subsided, she grabs my neck with her pussy on my lap and whispers, "Can keep going?" I agreed and there went another $30.

I watched the girls for another half hour, but I rolled out before I could spend any more money. I definitely had fun, but mostly cause of how silly Leo was.

search
rick ta life
without quotes
in google image search
and see what comes up.

Penis, Part I.


Penis, Part II.

$19.99 for these beauties:

When asked what kind of sound they were going for, two bands I recorded have told me that they want that "Fury Of Five" sound. I had some FoF mp3s, but when I saw this video on Youtube, I instantly appeared in a casino in a wifebeater, shaking my dreads. This is the true definition of "Wigger Mosh."

does that make me Assistant Producer?
Nyuk nyuk nyuk.

In April I'm assisting J. Robbins with the production of the new Modern Life Is War record. I'm BEYOND stoked.

As I hunch over this keyboard with a tit in my face, I can say that tonight was a night that felt like what one cound consider a "mixer," and also I've also been asked a bajillion itimmes, "Are you here for the 'young benefactor's' function?"

the open bar sucked.

fuck the Smithsonian.

being on the metro intoxicated was quite an experience.

I'm gonna watch Battlestar Galactica.

So, y'all may know about the kids afterschool rap project that I'm involved in. Basically we teach kids basic music skills and help refine their rap writing styles and at the end of the session, we record it. The new Rapper's Delight Club song was dropped maybe a month ago, and it's fighting with Fall Out Boy for the front page of myspace. RDL sometimes rocks 2000+ plays a day. Crazy.

Just kidding. It's gonna go on the market for $349,000, but I'm so fucking unmotivated and I'm too lazy to paint. I'd gladly knock off some dough if y'all wanted to buy this. Either way, I'm getting my money.

In a way.
David Goldberg and I have resolved to visit THIRTY new restaurants in 2007.
I've done two so far, and they've been aiiiiiiiiiiiight!

Urban BBQ. Rockville, MD.
Fuck the decor in this place.
For
fucking
real.
I'm not trying to see "keep austin weird" and "my karma ran over my dogma" bumper stickers over faux-quaint picnic tablecloths.
Despite the horrible view, the ribs were okay. It's like, you know when a friend invites you to a bbq that someone invited him to, and you really don't know anyone there, and one dude cooks the food and you're like, "I would have done this different, I'm glad I'm not friends with this dude." But they *were* hot, and they *were* saucy. So I'm not panning this place. I still hold JD's Roadhouse close to my heart.

Pho 88. Beltsville, MD.
A nice looking place. Great staff. Some fucking real-ass Pho. The musk from the beef was strong, and crazily tender, like it really was stewed for several days. The tripe and tendon were the best I'd tasted, and the grossest looking. And the broth was rich and dark. Fucking great, possibly my favorite Pho place ever.

according to Wikipedia:
he was eight years old in 1992.
making him born in 1984,
with a current age of
twenty fucking three.

and I.

2007.
I *was* gonna buy a motorcycle.
But I'm totally gonna move to Baltimore instead.
I'm for realz proclaiming this shit to crucially happen.

I walked into my sister's place in Baltimore, and couldn't open the door.

I'm housesitting until thursday, and supposed to keep the place, uh... safe?

Earlier my sister told me about her new roomie, and that I should keep her company. She was really excited cause we're the same age, and that we'd get along well.

Little did I know, that to get into my sisters, I'd have to shove my sister's new roommate out of the way.

She was passed out in front of the door, like she chose to. I dragged her onto the couch while facing resistance and being cursed out like I was kicking someone out of a bar.

I threw her down after getting slapped across the face.
"Can you hear me?"
"I can. I HATE YOU."
"What?"
"I hate youuuu.......," and she trailed off into slumberland.

Bubbleguts hit me.
I ran to the bathroom and pissed out of my ass for a while.
I could periodicaly hear her moan, "HELP ME!" but after I ran out to help her, she just greeted me with a talk-to-the-hand motion.
I continued to release my brown demons, ignoring her babbling.

I called two people for advice. I got this:

A) Wear a rubber so they can't trace the semen. The black demon generally leave the small prostitutes exclaiming loudly.

and

B) She'll probably blow you if she wakes up next to a trash can and a glass of water. Just sayin'.

Not exactly looking for a beej, I'm gonna go with "B."

I'll post pics later.

Is this resume gonna be aiiight?

...with bong in hand"

I fucking quit. (although, I have yet to tell them)
I hated my job so much.
I tried to convince myself otherwise, but it just made my feelings of shit and despair horribly worse.
On paper, It's not so bad being an electrician, but really, it caused one of my friends to go on a two month drinking (and not working) binge. The money was so good, that he could afford it. He eventually went back, but now he's talking about another beer vacation.

I'm up for
"Full-time Digital Editing Engineer" for a sound preservation department.
or
contract work installing home theatre systems for $25/hr.

As of now,
I'm straight chillin.

Seriously.
Doing work as an electrician is taking a toll on me.
The work is just fine, and I like learning,
but I don't want to work in this way for the rest of my life-
Six in the morning to two in the afternoon,
taking the subway,
being tired, and not being able to do the shit that I want to.

So,
I've formulated a plan with my best friend,
implemented in six months
to buy a multi-unit property in Baltimore,
pay someone to manage the apartment building,
then sell, and repeat.

I'd have time to record music, make music, hang out, be lazy and collect checks.
But for now, the grind continues.

...cause I'm not.
I feel like shit cause
I got hit in the face
with a hammer drill
when it bound up
on rebar
in the concrete
and it twisted my hand
before it rotated into my face
and forced my cheek
into my canines,
cutting deep
and
making me spit mouthfuls of blood
everywhere.

I didn't get sent home,
I just got laughed at.

So,
go see the hard-ons for me.
And get the new record.

Thanks.

serious as a heart attack.

9:30 Club
DragonForce
w/ All That Remains & Horse The Band
Early Show! 6pm Doors.
SAT. SEP. 30
$18.00

dragonforce.com

Star Trek: Voyager kinda sucks.
M'Lady Jen and I are working our way through season three and it's horrible.

It was at a time when Paramount and ST crews were trying to do more computer animation, and, well... it looks cheap. The ILM-style of the past two series looked professional as hell.

It's not just the look, the writing is just... shit. The continuity is horribly jagged, sort-of tying into each other as the series fumbles along. I hear it gets much much better, but man, nothing beat the last four seasons of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.