Sunday, December 21, 2008

Christmas Lust

I fucking love making themed playlists but I never made it over to the Viva-Radio studio to drop this baby off. Maybe if I have time this week I'll get to it. If not, here it is for ya'll to enjoy. I made it a point NOT to include "All I Want For Christmas Is You" ... so here it is:

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

you've got to be the cutest gravedigger I've ever seen

I totally forgot how much I love Alkaline Trio. Say what you will, but "Maybe I'll Catch Fire" was the quintessential "coming of age"/realizing being a guidette was skanky and WHACK soundtrack of my High School Years. It was listening to this album that made me want MORE out of life than my job at the tanning salon and sparked my interest in shiteous Long Island scene boyz. It was an epiphany of sorts - kind of like that scene in Clueless when Cher realizes she's really in love with Josh. Divine, really. Whenever I think back to the days of yore, spent with Catherine riding the LIRR to various house parties and studio parties, this entire album plays in my mind. "Fuck You Aurora", in particular, holds a special place in my heart as it was playing when I made out with my very first tattooed drummer scumbag probably rife with hepatitis A-C, whom I was absolutely smitten with of course. I remember running home and putting the song on my iPod which back then was a fucking novelty, and secretly listening to it in homeroom when I was supposed to be saying MORNING PRAYERS. Instead I'd be writing the lyrics in my American Civilization notebook and detesting the mere fact that I was stuck at some cunty Catholic School instead of out at some show in New Jersey with my best friend. Those were truly the glory days.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Add this to my list of "top 10 romantic ideals of all time"

It's funny how one song can revive such a specific set of emotions. The opening chords of "Like A Hurricane" by Neil Young doesn't bring me back to a particular time, but rather a stream of emotions and desires that will always resurface whenever I hear it. His archetypal loner-cowboy/hopeless romantic persona is best showed through this particular song, I think. Bringing people (or maybe just me) to a point in life that they didn't necessarily physically experience, but can relate to emotionally; that agonizing feeling of searching for something that's almost impossible to find, and even harder to posses. This one particular song made me fall in love with Neil Young and the whole southwest hippy lowlife image that he portrays for himself. It takes me directly to 1974 California, a revolutionary time for music that I wish more than anything I could have been a part of. Keep on truckin' Neil, I love you forever.

Enjoy. xx

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

All I want

Is a guy like John Cusack in "High Fidelity". Someone who's entire apartment is filled wall-to-wall with amazing records and wreaks of stale cigarettes. A sarcastic elitist asshole who makes top 5 lists for everything and will never admit that he loves me. WHERE ARE YOU? I need someone to make me an emotional cripple with one short lived but life-changing whirlwind romance. 

Monday, July 7, 2008

Joey Ramone saved my life

So today on my day off, I decide to get my broke ass tires replaced on Joey Ramone (my bike) and $66 dollars later, I have new tires, new tubes, a free tune up, a discounted bike lock and a free water bottle. It's in tip top condition and rides like a fucking dream when I leave the store so I start riding it home until I get to the service road and have to cross the street onto the other side of the bike path. No big deal, I've done it roughly 7000000 times, right? So I start to slow my pace because I see some douchebag in a black Benz encroaching up over the pedestrian line so I yell to make sure he sees me. He sees me, stops (his light is red, mine is green) so I start up my momentum when he out of nowhere decides to start moving again, running the light, and causing me to slam face first into the hood of his car. My bike took most of the blow causing my handlebars to dislocate and become totally misaligned but not until after they were jammed into my chest at full speed. I was holding my face to assess the situation (i.e. make sure my nose wasn't broken and that none of my teeth were missing) and the asshole got out of his car, not to help me up, but rather to get my bike out of his way in the street and then promptly get back into his car and speeds off before I can get any of his information. I managed to bike the rest of the way home even though I was super dizzy and my handlebars were crooked, but the second I got home my father rushes me to the ER. 2 hours, 2 blood tests, and an ECG later, nothing is wrong with my heart (thankfully) but my sternum was fractured from the impact. Other than that, I'm okay except for a whole lot of cuts and bruises on my face/body.

Anyway, the point of this story is the following:

1.) Be fucking careful on your bike because people are shitty scumbag assholes

2.) After realizing that my bike took most of the damage, thus saving MY FACE a lot of damage, I realized that my bike pretty much saved me. My point is only further proven when I find that my doctors name is Jeffrey Hyman (aka the real name of Joey Ramone, obviously) who also made sure I didn't die. That being said, I'm 100% serious in believing that Joey, knowing me deep and undying love for him, was watching over me today and for that I am getting a commemorative tattoo in his honor.


Sunday, July 6, 2008

J. Geils Band had it right

How do I say this without sounding too abrasive? Well to begin with, let's preface this by saying that every single guy I've been involved with over the past, oh, I'd say about 12 months?, has been completely fucking psychotic. That being said, clearly I am in no way, shape, or form looking for a relationship. So why, I ask, is it so fucking hard to find someone who's normal (i.e. NOT crazy) and wants to spend some time watching "Freaks and Geeks", maybe smoking, perhaps making out and be totally unofficial but on a semi-constant basis? I'm not talking text messaging every day, I'm not talking changed status on ~*MySpAcE*~ ... I'm talking about straight up HANGING OUT, not being sketchy, and perhaps bringing it back to '01 and dry humping on your couch.

I'm a levelheaded person. I know when to say when. I know that calling a guy 3 times in a row is a no-no. I know that pet names are obnoxious on the verge of nauseating. I know I deserve more than being a glorified booty call, but Christ. The pickin's are slim so, yes, sometimes we have to make a few altercations to our usual high set standards. But what I'd like to know is when guys in New York City turned into such fucking pussies. Either you're shitting your pants that we didn't answer 1 of your 107 text messages or you're freaking out because you think that we're going to get the wrong idea about a situation, and in turn, end up freaking out yourself. Nobody's talking about marriage here ... and until there is an official "TALK", no assumptions are made. Man up for fucks sake. Either you're on the bus or you're off the bus.

It's summer and we're all just trying to get our kicks, KNOWWHATI'MSAYIN'?