Coyote Ugly No Respite for the Overworked

The amount of cool shit I have missed in the last couple of weeks due to work is too long and sad to enumerate.
During a break I turned on my fifty inch HDTV and tuned into Coyote Ugly. What fucking losers moviegoers are. We used to do the same thing (as the "coyotes") as teenagers in a cafe next to Papagallo's (another Astoria institution now gone), not for the money, but for the fun.
A Greek friend pilfered salt and pepper shakers while the Croatians poured Sambuca on the tables and lit them afire- and EMF was not outdated, it was blazing. As were the Brazilian and Italian chicks rocking Fendi dresses and sky-high platforms while they danced on the bar.

Some of you have to live vicariously, while I enjoy my own memories and create new ones.

Fast forward- working my ass off at this impresario/lawyer/publisher thing and I'm getting so manic I'm considering vlogging.
Mania equals broken boundaries. (I emailed Nas last night.)
Stupid movies are just a fun target to blow off some steam while I read Wired magazine's "How To" Issue (don't be mean and point out that I haven't followed through on the "improving the look of your blog" segment) and look towards my very bright future.

And to those who chose to scurry off the MC train: Fuck You.
I hold grudges.

You'll figure it out when my next round of VC funding comes through, bitches.

(Oh and if you haven't already- check out "Black President," from the top selling album in the US... I wonder what Obama thinks of it.)

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