hanging at the bar with the guys thursday

So thursday is officially coming to be "Hang with the guys at the bar night". Again to the Walrus for drinks and various protein particulates suspended in grease. That is to say, bar food. The same subjects still seem new and interesting.

Hold up, back a few steps.

Of course the night starts with talent night at the cup and chai lattes. This time instead of a lame jazz quartet playing out of a fake book it was a lame Cat Stevens wannabe. Now, I object to small jazz ensembles playing out of fake books. Do I play Kreutzer studies for my audiences? No, there's no performances involved in that at all! It's just variations on a simple theory theme like broken thirds or a dominant seventh. Ugh, bad jazz sucks so much I can't begin to communicate it's suckingness.

I think that's all I'm fit to talk about right now. Good night Seattle!

Fresh homeboys with beat boxes and vocoders

Good evenin' home boys, Black boys, beat girls, parents and politicians. Pimps, prostitutes, pick-pockets, and punks. I'd like to bring you a proud presentation and a proud performance. May I continue?

Yes you may!

Peter pepper picked pick-pocketed a piece of pepper. He's been rappin' 'bout anything better. So I want to pass it by you all. If anybody here's goin' to a party

Clap your hands!

(no subject)

According to my full userinfo I created my journal today, exactly one year ago.

Time flies eh?

Better late than never?

Oh, look there's email telling me it's schnitz_mi's birthday. In celebration I have baked^* an erotic cake.



PS: yes, I understand that your name is not Patricia, but the urge was overwhelming.

PPS: the cake is apparently a male ass. I'm not sure what it is myself, more like a tumor if you ask me.
* Baked, as in searched google for images of erotic cakes