fifty cents for fifty dollars
I haven’t written anything in a long time. I’ve probably weeded out most of the non-believers.
it’s very windy right now. the apartment building serves as a windbreak after a vacant lot, and it gets hit pretty good. I can see dust clouds moving down the street. and I’m listening to “oceans” by Pearl Jam. so deep, man. so, deep.
this week for the Ticket package? rapper who calls himself (deleted, hah!)is playing at the local asshole bar. and, as he’s an affiliate, most of G-Unit is going to be there. I shit you not. 50 Cent himself.
but that’s not on the record, so we can’t print it.
matter of fact, if my employers found out I wrote about this prior on a web log, I’d be in a lot of shit. but that’s to be expected; I’d be in shit anyway if they found out about this at all.
so do I spend 50 bucks and get in a 200 person audience to party with a shitty gangsta rap star? do I? 50 knows Eminem, who was in “8 Mile” with Brittany Murphy, who was in “Don’t Say a Word” with Oliver Platt, who was in something called “Loverboy” with Kevin Bacon. four degrees! it’s in four days. it’s a sign!
I went to a Brazilian steak house last night in Mexicali with some coworkers. jesus, god. I should have intervention angioplasty after that meal. just meat, and meat and meat. after a plate, you feel huge, and then they come around with the roasted pineapple on the sword, and that’s it. youj’re fucked. they wheel your unconscious ass outside, dump you on the curb and leave 100 pesos in your breast pocket for cab fair.
then you’ve hit rock bottom.
all in all, it’s pretty good, if only something you eat once every three or four months. it’s like the buffet I can see from my window, only slightly better food, more expensive and Mexican. three qualities you’d be unwise to go without.
alright, now I’m listening to Tom Waits’ version of “big rock candy mountain.” I want my album back, Josh, you son of a bitch.
I almost got burned out at work today. key word is “almost.”
I can’t wait to quit. I’m done qualifying this. this place is alright, but I’m not interested in committing my early twenties to it. the tiny, tiny wheels in my fat, fat head are in motion.
that’s all for now. oh, wait: know what would be a good idea? if Mar returned emails. yeah, that’s be pretty sweet.
just a thought.
Please do not go to that concert, please! You’ll thank me later -Neil
funny you mention tom waits. was re-listening to that cd again, after a couple months break. i love it. i’m glad that you have good taste in music.
this morning i was ready to fucking punch a hole through the skull of the co-worker that asked me to hate-fuck her. my head hurt from having my time wasted and being so annoyed. but then i got some lunch and a slice of pecan pie at an over-priced diner on the west side, came back to the office to do some work and listened to elvis. then i was alright.
i think you should go to see G-Unit. you KNOW there’s gonna be some ladies there looking to come home in a pick-up truck with a sandal, torn shorts, and flannel wearing soft spoken guy who has been questioned as to his where-abouts on a saturday night after going home with a co-worker. OH NO I DIDN’T!
yes i did.
Smith. Big J misses you. and your hairy chest.
Don’t you dare bitch about missing CD’s
I missing like 15 of my best.. and where the hell are they?… oh yeah noone knows!
you know what’s awesome?
when the resident dumb ho of the office sits down at your computer and closes out of a window that completely fucks everything up making your work take twice as long and be four times as tedious.
then she comes around asks you to fix her paper shredder and asks ‘why is the screwdriver electric?’
‘to be more convenient.’
‘…oh’
i fucking hate you.
Guess who got free tickets to see Spoon in Bloomington this Tuesday? Too bad you are in the middle of nowhere…
Josh, however, is not. You better get your ass down here, Martin. Just tell them you had a family member kick the bucket. They’re a non-for-profit, they won’t be a dick about it.
-Smith