It's Saturday night. I went to Juke's to see my friend Lucy's band play. They were good. Then came Squints. They were pretty fuckin rad. good sing-a-long punk rock, no bullshit. Then cam the crown fucking jewel. I already forgot the name of the abomination that took place after squints, but it was really just something else. Within seconds of the Buck Cherry meets Load-era Metallica riffs the front of the house was flooded with ugly little troll-like super tan bitches shaking their asses of and singing along like it was some sort of fucking Nicklelback concert. I almost thought I was going to start drinking again. It was atrocious. I don't feel like I need to get into too many details about it, just let it be said that I will always be blown away by aweful, shitty bands having the power to totally enthrall fucking idiot girls.
Let me preface this next little bit by saying that I by no means have any sort of blanket hatred for females; i.e. I don't blame them for all the worlds problems, or think they are all just mindless fucking/shopping machines. That being said, I think some women/girls are just mindless fucking/shopping machines. And they all like Nickelback and Puddle of Mudd (sp?) and there were a whole slew of them at Juke's tonight that must have been hiding in the shadows until this fucking abortion took the stage. Then it-was-ON. Fuck. I don't even know where I'm going with this. Or know if anybody will read it. Whatever.
Hey John Timmermans thank you for looking at my blog, and you should totally buy that CB350. See you Saturday at Mulligan's? Peace out. I'm going to bed and listening to Bruce Springsteen to repair the damage my soul took while hearing that fucking Affliction commercial at the bar tonight. Don't let me down, Boss.
xoxoxoxoxadam
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Shakin' it off
Some day off. I didn't do shit today. I'm okay with it. Moving on with my life...FUCK! Seriously, Twilight? You couldn't just throw in some titties for the guys like me who saw your movie for reasons other than wanting to? One fucking tit?
Moving on, some asshole started writing a bunch of shit about me and my band today. Shit like that really gets to me. It wasn't a review, or constructive criticism, just straight shit-talk. I know things like that shouldn't bother me, normally I'm pretty thick skinned, but I was PISSED. This motherfucker is going to make fun of MY voice and MY songs? Here's the thing; if you can't do something, whatever, you don't matter. But if you claim to be an "artist" or singer* or whatever, you better be doing something pretty god-damned amazing to talk shit to a group of people who are out writing and recording and performing music simply for the love of it. So when this has-been washed-out pillow fucker comes out and says My shit is no good and I'm a hack, my blood just BOILS, man. Whatever, he probably fucked his dead grandparents, and now to bury his guilt he slams the people in this city who still have something to offer. Fucking creep.
OK. Just had to get that out. I'm good now. I'm gonna take my "narrow, small minded musical tastes" (metal) and go play some Crooked Fingers records before I go to bed. Yeah, mellow.
Love Adam
*I fucking hate it when rock singers refer to themselves as artists.
Moving on, some asshole started writing a bunch of shit about me and my band today. Shit like that really gets to me. It wasn't a review, or constructive criticism, just straight shit-talk. I know things like that shouldn't bother me, normally I'm pretty thick skinned, but I was PISSED. This motherfucker is going to make fun of MY voice and MY songs? Here's the thing; if you can't do something, whatever, you don't matter. But if you claim to be an "artist" or singer* or whatever, you better be doing something pretty god-damned amazing to talk shit to a group of people who are out writing and recording and performing music simply for the love of it. So when this has-been washed-out pillow fucker comes out and says My shit is no good and I'm a hack, my blood just BOILS, man. Whatever, he probably fucked his dead grandparents, and now to bury his guilt he slams the people in this city who still have something to offer. Fucking creep.
OK. Just had to get that out. I'm good now. I'm gonna take my "narrow, small minded musical tastes" (metal) and go play some Crooked Fingers records before I go to bed. Yeah, mellow.
Love Adam
*I fucking hate it when rock singers refer to themselves as artists.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Which one is Zac Efron?
So let's just get this shit right out in the open. Last night I went and saw the new Twilight movie. I know, I know, I'm a big pussy, yada, yada. Fuck It. I had a good reason for seeing it, but I'm not going to explain it or make excuses. I'm a thirty-goddamned-year-old man. I can do whatever the fuck I want to and I will.
That being said, this was one of the worst fucking things I have ever seen on the silver screen. I'm talking Weekend at Bernie's 2 bad. Little Monsters bad. It was like Saved by the Bell and 90210 had a baby and only let it listen to Bauhaus. Jesus, it was dumb. The whole movie, from what I could tell, was about whether the Jennifer Love-Hewitt-looking chick would decide to go steady with A.C. Slater or Zak Morris (Kelly choosing between Brandon an Dylan?). Here's the crazy twist, though. Instead of a wrestler, Slater is a huge dog. And instead of a Smart-aleky dreamboat, Zak is undead and made out of porcelain. God, what a clusterfuck, right?
But it gets better. The chick from the Sixth Sense (also the 11 year old chick who gets raped in a movie about Elvis (Presley, not Costello)) plays the leader of a group of D&D kids who like killing baby vampires. How is this shit so popular? There's not even any sex, or tits, of even blood. Because porcelain doesn't bleed, it just breaks, like a toilet bowl on the cover of Tiger Beat magazine.
Did I mention that for such a hugely popular movie, the CGI, camera work, and acting were all atrocious? It takes place by Seattle and doesn't even have a Tad song in the soundtrack. I don't know. Obvious lost cross-promotional opportunity? Have Vampire Weekend do the soundtrack and score. I haven't heard that band, but I know all the trendy hipster art-fags seem to like 'em a lot. So there you go.
Ok. I guess that's enough about that. Hmmm, what else? Rehearsals for the 70s tribute show at Billy's on July 15 went well tonight. It should be a lot of fun. Robert Plant has a really high voice, but I think I just need to get tighter jeans and everything will work out. I have been playing the shit out of my guitar lately and it feels good. Work is relentless, but who the fuck else cares about that? With all this cinematic whimsy about, who has time to worry about responsibility? Not me. I do what I want. I want to BLOG apparently. Some things in my life make me incredibly happy right now and I will not be brought down by the things that don't. I will smash adversity like a ceramic blood sucker!
Well, fuck me. I did get something out of that movie after all.
Goodnight.
--A. C. Rossell
( no relation to A. C. Slater)
That being said, this was one of the worst fucking things I have ever seen on the silver screen. I'm talking Weekend at Bernie's 2 bad. Little Monsters bad. It was like Saved by the Bell and 90210 had a baby and only let it listen to Bauhaus. Jesus, it was dumb. The whole movie, from what I could tell, was about whether the Jennifer Love-Hewitt-looking chick would decide to go steady with A.C. Slater or Zak Morris (Kelly choosing between Brandon an Dylan?). Here's the crazy twist, though. Instead of a wrestler, Slater is a huge dog. And instead of a Smart-aleky dreamboat, Zak is undead and made out of porcelain. God, what a clusterfuck, right?
But it gets better. The chick from the Sixth Sense (also the 11 year old chick who gets raped in a movie about Elvis (Presley, not Costello)) plays the leader of a group of D&D kids who like killing baby vampires. How is this shit so popular? There's not even any sex, or tits, of even blood. Because porcelain doesn't bleed, it just breaks, like a toilet bowl on the cover of Tiger Beat magazine.
Did I mention that for such a hugely popular movie, the CGI, camera work, and acting were all atrocious? It takes place by Seattle and doesn't even have a Tad song in the soundtrack. I don't know. Obvious lost cross-promotional opportunity? Have Vampire Weekend do the soundtrack and score. I haven't heard that band, but I know all the trendy hipster art-fags seem to like 'em a lot. So there you go.
Ok. I guess that's enough about that. Hmmm, what else? Rehearsals for the 70s tribute show at Billy's on July 15 went well tonight. It should be a lot of fun. Robert Plant has a really high voice, but I think I just need to get tighter jeans and everything will work out. I have been playing the shit out of my guitar lately and it feels good. Work is relentless, but who the fuck else cares about that? With all this cinematic whimsy about, who has time to worry about responsibility? Not me. I do what I want. I want to BLOG apparently. Some things in my life make me incredibly happy right now and I will not be brought down by the things that don't. I will smash adversity like a ceramic blood sucker!
Well, fuck me. I did get something out of that movie after all.
Goodnight.
--A. C. Rossell
( no relation to A. C. Slater)
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Celebrate Me!!!
Well, the goals that I set forth for myself for Independence day have been met. I'm pretty stoked about it, too. I wish I didn't have to work in the morning. Oh well. Heard some new music I dug today. Forgot the name of the group, but I can catch up with that later.
Somebody brought over a bunch of tiny pitbull puppies. Then everybody turned into big baby-talking pussies for four hours. I think I might have, too. Fuck. Whatever.
Looking forward to tomorrow for more hanging out and who the fuck know what sort of shit may happen. I'm setting the bar pretty low by hoping for no more than watching This is Spinal Tap with a good friend who somehow has gone 28 years without seeing it.
That's all for now. Sleep time.
Somebody brought over a bunch of tiny pitbull puppies. Then everybody turned into big baby-talking pussies for four hours. I think I might have, too. Fuck. Whatever.
Looking forward to tomorrow for more hanging out and who the fuck know what sort of shit may happen. I'm setting the bar pretty low by hoping for no more than watching This is Spinal Tap with a good friend who somehow has gone 28 years without seeing it.
That's all for now. Sleep time.
The Radio Is Garbage
This is my first Blog. No shit, right? Well, I have not been sleeping lately, and that has afforded me a lot of long thinkin' nights, nights in which I have no one to bitch to about random things. So begins SpaceJawsofDoom. If anybody ever reads this, feel free to give me feedback, share opinions, or just generally tell me to fuck off.
So I hear the radio all day at my job and it's just plain torture. That's all it is. I doesn't matter what station, because it is all just pure horse-shit. Once and a while I'll geet lucky and hear a Thin Lizzy jam if it's classic rock station day, or something, but usually it's "new" rock, i.e. Nickelback, Disturbed, etc. Oh and then there's "country music" days where we're all subjected to a bunch of thirty-something failed boy bands donning tight affliction-style cowboy outfits and adding a fiddle to there band and calling it country. Listen, if eat some astronaut ice cream, I don't go around telling everyone that I'm BuzzfuckingAldrin, so get off your horses, you fake cowboy fucks. Anyways, it's all just really bad. All these bands do anymore is shitty, nasal covers of once bad-ass rock tunes. Land of Confusion? Check. Bad Company? Check. Simple Man? Shit! Check. Write a song, you assholes, and quit letting all the real bands do all the work.
So what do I do? I try to listen to Pandora. It's awesome, right? Free radio stations playing music that I want to hear, right? Nope. Because I'm pretty sure Alkaline Trio is owns Pandora. Either that or Matt is polishing those Pandora dudes' knobs pretty regularly. No matter what band I enter in to hear, I hear one song by said band and then always some crappy Alkaline Trio Song. OK, I get it. They had a couple rockin albums 12 years ago. But whether I'm listening Bruce Springsteen or Misfits channels, Alkaline-fuckin-Trio always rapes their way in to the set. Am I supposed to still love this band? Because I don't. I think they ran out of fuel in 1999. Whatever. I guess I just can't be pleased.
It's the 4th of July. I'm still on probation. YAY! I'm gonna try to get into some sort of body of water today. Hopefully make out with a chick, if possible. That's the kind of shit you're supposed to do on this glorious day, right? Well, I'm off to go buy swimmin' trunks. Hopefully someone reads this.
So I hear the radio all day at my job and it's just plain torture. That's all it is. I doesn't matter what station, because it is all just pure horse-shit. Once and a while I'll geet lucky and hear a Thin Lizzy jam if it's classic rock station day, or something, but usually it's "new" rock, i.e. Nickelback, Disturbed, etc. Oh and then there's "country music" days where we're all subjected to a bunch of thirty-something failed boy bands donning tight affliction-style cowboy outfits and adding a fiddle to there band and calling it country. Listen, if eat some astronaut ice cream, I don't go around telling everyone that I'm BuzzfuckingAldrin, so get off your horses, you fake cowboy fucks. Anyways, it's all just really bad. All these bands do anymore is shitty, nasal covers of once bad-ass rock tunes. Land of Confusion? Check. Bad Company? Check. Simple Man? Shit! Check. Write a song, you assholes, and quit letting all the real bands do all the work.
So what do I do? I try to listen to Pandora. It's awesome, right? Free radio stations playing music that I want to hear, right? Nope. Because I'm pretty sure Alkaline Trio is owns Pandora. Either that or Matt is polishing those Pandora dudes' knobs pretty regularly. No matter what band I enter in to hear, I hear one song by said band and then always some crappy Alkaline Trio Song. OK, I get it. They had a couple rockin albums 12 years ago. But whether I'm listening Bruce Springsteen or Misfits channels, Alkaline-fuckin-Trio always rapes their way in to the set. Am I supposed to still love this band? Because I don't. I think they ran out of fuel in 1999. Whatever. I guess I just can't be pleased.
It's the 4th of July. I'm still on probation. YAY! I'm gonna try to get into some sort of body of water today. Hopefully make out with a chick, if possible. That's the kind of shit you're supposed to do on this glorious day, right? Well, I'm off to go buy swimmin' trunks. Hopefully someone reads this.
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