I pH33R the day I get into a fight. A real fight. Like someone whupping on my ass with intent to rob, injure, or kill. You will see the true meaning of creampuff.
My bank is seriously whacked; you can't deposit money into savings and checking without filling out TWO different slips. WHAT THE FUCK? It's simple. This much goes into checking, this much into savings. My old bank was with it, but then, they were a "credit union" and generally hipper.
I still should have asked that teller to the 80's music show last fall. Totally slipped my mind.
I need to stop punching stuff so hard that my knuckles bleed. I just get lost in the rhythm, and soon I'm using anything as a drum. At least the parking meter I hit got fucked up pretty bad, too. I am getting better with my rhythm, syncopation, and "quartering" myself, as my dad calls it; running four separate beats on my four seperate limbs. I was actually almost sweating on the subway ride to work from all the drumming; I can still feel it in my arms. On the way back to the train, I was boxing to the beat; shuffling my feet even without losing a single beat. Stick and move, Mac. Stick and move.
Tower Records said they had one copy of Starless today... all I could find was Splay. I think Lula Divina is out of print or something. BUT I WANT STARLESS!!! It is sold out like, everywhere. No wonder I was punching stuff.