What's up, Friday? I've missed you.

Blue light special...we got a knife sale!



• Last night, the three musketeers (that being myself, my brother and my sister...currently all abiding under 1 small roof) got wild. Brother was, as he puts it, "shitty/deads". Sister fell and caught herself with her chin instead of her hands. That rug burn on her face was radiating so much heat. I was sweating to the oldies. (not golden oldies, but Terence Trent D'Arby's Wishing Well qualifies in this instance.)


• I was recently discussing my first real concert experience. My dad took me to see Tom Petty when I was 9. First time seeing weed being smoked. First time seeing boys macking on boys and girls with girls. (although it wasn't until a couple years later that it registered that was what I was witnessing...9 is young!) One of my favorite concerts ever for virtue of the fact that it was safe, controlled, chaperoned, and I knew every word to every song.

• Last but not least, I'm pretty sure at some point last night, we started discussing the relevance of Jock Jams. Even if I conjured that up in my head, I've still got a goodie here for you to get your weekend pumped up!

mp3: Black Box - Strike it Up

This site is primarily and 99.9%-ily devoted to music I like/love/am obsessed with, music that is brand spanking new, music you can spank to, and occasionally a random post that has not so much to do with the jams.

While walking to get some delicious lunch at work, I stumbled across this sign in a storefront on 8th Street & Broadway. It will become the face of all that is random and rad.


For this installment, I must focus on my office lover, Ridwah.

I mentioned yesterday that I couldn't get my Goldfrapp ticket until tomorrow (it's pay day, britches), even though presale was occurring today. (Yes britches was a typo, but I'm keeping it in the hopes it'll be pay day in my britches...rock!)

So, long unnecessary story short, he purchased my ticket today. Granted, I'll have to pay him back tomorrow, but for now, all is secured and well for April 29.


The thing about Ridwah is: no one, and I mean no one, gets me like he does. And he knows it too, and makes me well aware of it. He keeps me in check, all whilst being super sassy.

No one else shares my knowledge/passion of obscure music like he does. As an aside, I've never known anyone to love Deee-Lite's Good Beat as much as I do. He loves it more.

Ridwah, you keep on doing what you do. And quit wagging your finger at me...cause I'll wag the shit out of you.