Tangents, Ahoy!
My weekend was pretty dead, but that certainly didn’t stop me from getting drunk (read, buzzed). Yessir, I sure did drink beer this weekend.
Does anyone know about Okocim? In my mind, it rhymes with moccasin, ROX again and spotted hen (speckled hen may be the name of another beer, but I cannot recall. It has been a long life fueled by pints-o-plenty). I generally drink the Green label Okocim, with the 5.5% alcohol content, as opposed to the Malt, which boasts an alcohol content of over 7%, but tastes like it has syphilis. Plus I gave up malt liquor, with the exception of an occasional black 8-ball (holler if you hear me) or cans of Steel Reserve when the chips are down, or I’m planning on getting stupid. Crossing the street with your eyes closed stupid.
Anyway, they sell Okocim brand beer in the Getty, and that’s some tasty shit. A while back I tried, very unsuccessfully, to begin reviewing beers. Then I realized I didn’t know the difference between barley and hops and malt. And that I really don’t like Wheat beer (Hoegaarden and the like). My main comment was that a lot of the beers I sampled reminded me of Coors Light but with a Polish attitude. Plus, it was very, very difficult to stop drinking long enough to write anything substantial and my rating system was inherently flawed. My jimmy hat goes off to everyone who has ever completed one of these things and had them published. It’s not something you can do during one singular night of heavy drinking, unlike say conceiving a child.
Basically, when I’m lamping in the LIC, I spend a fair amount of my wages at the Getty. I’ve always been curious why they sold beer at gas stations, as most patrons of gas stations are drivers who are going to resume driving at any moment. It seems counter-intuitive, but then again the drive through daiquiri shops/ elementary schools in New Orleans would basically scream "free lap dance to everyone driving drunk!"
The Getty, by my best estimate, is owned by a Polish man. I made this estimate because:
a) they sell a lot of Polish beer.
AND
b) who ever heard of a woman owning a gas station?
Anyway, being the excellent customer that I am and frequently returning 3-5 times in one night in an increasing state of disrepair, I eventually came to know a couple of the employees of the Getty.
We’ll focus on my man Habib. Habib is this fairly large African guy (from Africa) who speaks about 5 different languages and has the strongest looking hands I’ve ever seen (no homo). He seems to be deeply religious and somehow manages to work 6 12-hr shifts a week doing what could best be described as a "shit job." Habib never seems upset to be working, although it is entirely possible that whatever situation he was in before he was working in the Getty was much worse, and I’d imagine that the idea of working inside with access to a phone and a television is some unheard of shit in Africa. Shit, I would have trouble leaving work if I could find a way to incorporate alcohol and a couch into my present "fast Internet and cigarette breaks" situation.
Some updates on my life of amazing wonder.
-I’ve been watching Rome on HBO, which is about Caesar and whatnot. I could have swore that Shakespeare made all that shit up, but apparently it really happened. It’s a pretty great show, and since I have direct tv, and get HBOW and HBO2W (which just replay the same shit that was on American, east coast, HBO 3 hours later) I get to cap my 12 hours of football watching with some good historical drama.
-my Fantasy Baseball team, The Kansas City Krills, are currently playing for the championship against my brothers friend from Cali. I can’t see myself losing anything to someone from Cali. I’m just saying.
-I bought a camouflage hat. That will teach me to drink in the afternoon.
-I took part in the musical herbing of a frail young child whose bizarre infatuation with fellating emo bands is amusing and sickening at the same time.
BadmintonStamps feat. Chronikill - "Central Village Idiot"
I, for the record, wanted to find said frail young child and put the beats on him (no homo) in front of his idols. Instead, we recorded a tongue in cheek diss track and I posted these angry comments on his blog. You may say I have too much time on my hands. I would say "gag on my cock."
—-
hey,
I just wanted to say that you are a herb, and that this whole "writing" shitty little paragraphs about emo bands no one cares about isn’t going to get you laid and very well may cause someone to break a bottle over your head.
The Learning Annex has a variety of classes that can help improve your writing skills, however they can do very little to prevent you from getting vicked. You are from Vicksburg, no?
I would advise you to quit altogether, or consider changing your blogs name to "thoughts from a fellatio machine," as if to more accurately describe the contents found within.
Oh, and emotions are gay.
Just saying.
—-
"growing up" doesn’t mean moving here for college, playgirl.
no, I cannot possibly believe that any NYC-native, no matter how misguided or molested as a child they were, could engage in such complete cocksuckerry of non-consequential acts. If he was really raised here, he should kill himself and try again.
Ain’t no excuse for someone born here to openly encourage the bullshit circus of assclowns that get slurped on here.
His writing skills are on par with that of your average product of the NYC public school system- I will give you that- but I’m sure that the word "public" is nowhere to found on his resume.
enjoy CMJ and keep hoping they maintain the police state in the city, for the sake of faces unblemished by razors.
hey, on the upside, if no one is hating no one is noticing… or whatever it is you tell yourself that lets you sleep at night.
–
"it’s not a game, no it’s not a game/ You only run faster as you scream ‘they snatched my chain’/"
