Four to the Floor
Hurling into another weekend with, yes, yet another hangover.
I see a pattern developing here. But that being said, its fucking brilliant outside. Blue skies, a cool breeze, and cold beer awaits us all. This past week, there was drama in the hood. In a surprising turn of events, management apparently frowns upon endless beers, howling laughter, screaming idiots, Jerry Garcia raping his guitar, arrogantly offensive language, smashing glass bottles, walls of medicinal “smoke”, techno pumping louder than fucking warfare, multiple bikes bunny hopping, endless beers, Bobby Weir having an abortion live on stage, endless beers, metal recorded in Satan’s personal studio, and guests that never stop pouring in the door. Huh. Didn’t know we shouldn’t be living this way. You could have FOOLED me. And here I was, thinking everyone ELSE is fucking crazy. But after a threatening letter from the landlord, a little panic, and deliberating over some cold beers, we STILL have a roof over our heads. And the party goes on….
Tonight I will be at UHall, catching my pals Frank and Rusty of All Good Funk Alliance. These boys have toured the new world, making dance floors get pregnant. Their label Funk Weapons continues to be one of the premiere labels for organic, breaky, good for the soul, FUNK. Hopefully the rest of the weekend will fall into place, with disc golf, bikes on the single tracks, grills, and the fucking Redskins losing. I fucking love seeing my friends get all excited and talk shit, then go home like the cuckolds they really are. Actually, I just really hate NFL, but hey, don’t tase me bro.
Next week I’m stoked, as I get to (finally) find out what its like to commute on a bike. I will be training somewhere closer than my fucking office, which resides in the middle of fucking nowhere. A sixty mile commute everyday can suck your soul people, so I suggest you drive fast, or you’ll lose that shit.
The track below is a fucking bomber I grabbed a month back and can’t stop jamming. It turned the crowd out really nice when I dropped it at a gig at the one and only Jimmy Valentines a couple weekends ago. The sex happens @ 3:28, so have a condom handy, and play it LOUD.
It’s fall people. Don’t be Brett Favre’s PENIS stupid. Let’s party.
Hannulelauri – Zombie Tropicana



EVICTION thwarted! a hearty FUCK YOU goes out to the staff of Dorchester Towers!