There are real rockers living next door to me. They just came home; they’re loudly playing their ridiculous music. I overheard them say on the way in that “they don’t want to have a G-rated show. They need to pay nude women to…just fuckin…dance on the front of the stage while they’re playin.”
Word.
hey, ok. i’m still around, but now i’m on tumblr, along with craig ‘newbie’ anderson.
There’s nothing like a sexy rap jam to get me in the mood to bone. Straight-up.
When I was in high school, I hated rap. I just didn’t get it. Now, I get it — the smooth beats, the sexy attitude, and the bad-ass antics; it’s all amazing. It’s all I want to listen to these days, which is weird because I always thought the older I got, the further away from hip-hop I would stray.
Not the case. Last night, I was introduced to a song by Asher Roth called “I love College”. That shit is on repeat on my stereo. It’s retarded, yes, but it’s also awesome. I did all that shit in college too — everyone did; once I pissed in a Cheetos bag because I was too drunk to make it to the bathroom, which was across the hall from my room. The song is relatable for anyone who bozoed their way through school, and that makes it SWEET.
Fuck it. You know what? That song just inspired me to go back to college. It’s PARTY TIME. Again.
I need new jeans. My current jeans are quite literally falling off my legs. The ass is blown out, every time I step into them they rip, and I can’t wash them because they will probably disappear in the washing machine. Now don’t get me wrong, I love them — that’s actually the problem: I love them so much I wear the shit out of them.
Buying new pants is nightmare. No store has pants even remotely as sweet as the ones I am wearing right now — that’s kind of a rule for buying pants. Plus, you have to drive around to a whole bunch of places and in the end, you just settle for the best of a bad bunch. But maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m the only one who has bad luck with buying jeans. It’s probably because I have weird legs; in fact, I’m sure that’s the reason — my short legs are impossible to please.
When I was 14 I broke my femur playing soccer. A big lardo fell on me and managed to snap my right leg in half. I remember it pretty distinctly because it was my first broken bone, and it was the first major injury I sustained where I didn’t cry. It was also the first time that I said “fucking ballsack” in front of my dad.
When they took me to the hospital they told me that I had to have pins put into my leg, but also, the hospital I was at was a bag of shit, so my mum had me transferred to a better one. The new hospital was a real tight joint. They were all: you don’t need pins! But, you will need to be put in a straight-legged cast from your hip to your toe for 10 months. And here’s a wheelchair, which you will need to use for several months.
Remember, I was in grade 9 at the time; I was 14, already ripe for the teasings, but now I was in a wheelchair, with one leg out in front of me like a gibbled battering ram. And they made me take the elevator; they even gave me a special key. I was like the pretzel man from Usual Suspects, but like, in a wheelchair and not the head of a Hungarian crime family.
It wasn’t all bad though, I suppose. I got a lot of sympathy afterwards, when I was on crutches. Plus, I was given a spare block, and my hip joint became so flexible that I could comfortably raise my leg instead of raising my hand in the classroom, which I did — regularly.
I also stopped wearing conventional pants. I don’t have them anymore, but for a year or so I had several pairs of Terry Fox pants, ie. one-legged trousers. I wish I still had those pants, I’m sure they’re hilarious: party on the right, business on the left.
Ok, anyway, after they took my cast off the hospital told me that I had snapped the leg through the growth plate and one of my legs was going to be shorter than the other, unless they went in a cut the growth plate out of my “good leg”. So they did. And that put me in a hip-toe cast for another 9 months, but this time it was on my business leg.
It was a tough year and a half. And now I have stumpy thighs and my shoulders are too wide for my “supposed to be taller body”. But oh well, right? I suppose if worst comes to worst, and I can’t find a new pair of pants that I like as much as my current ones (which I took to the tailor to be shortened), I can just wear an oak barrel, with straps. Those things fit everybody.
Man I’m loving TWITTER right now. I’m like, totally plugged in to what everyone is doing. Plus, CRAIG is Twittering, so this is like a total brain melt for me — he never does stuff like this. It’s a whole new medium for me to razz him on.
But, I’ll be really upset if he gets more followers than me, so help me get to a million and I’ll drive to LA and have tantric sex with P-DIDDY in his hotel room. I swear to God I will.
Fatlip is incredible. He rapped with Pharcyde, lived the life, then hit the skids worse than Leon Spinks.
I’m back in the game. Follow me on TWITTER
I would write more, but my hangover is so bad right now I’ll barf on my computer screen.
