So, um ...
Fiona's been leaked.
I even posted one my damn self.
Oh. And to switch gears: Could it be?
There should be a new column up pretty soon. It's been submitted. But, admittedly, at press time, it's not quite there yet. Word to Mr. Lachkovich
What's up with Nicholas these days? Holler at your boy.
I tried to call Ruthie and ask her permission. Either way, she made the picture. Don't steal it.
I'll try & tell her tomorrow, since I have to go back to college.
In honor of that, an old favorite.
Some good news. via catchdubs
I bought this today. Stoking the flames of an old obsession. Like visiting with an ex-girlfriend.
And this. It's a Kanye day.
In other news, not link enhanced: get ready for the clothing line. Shh ...
Check out the commercial. And Don't Hate.
Laugh, but feel free to kind of hate.
Sorry for the spotty update record status. But don't fret. There'll be more. Very soon I'm quitting my job.
But I posted a Goddamned Smorgasbord for your entertainment.
(sp?)
Word to Coke Blunts.
Lastly, I would like to have it known that if me & Dunc-o succeed in getting published, there's two cats in the world that'll just be famous as hell. (And yet no one will know who they are.)
New Shit! New Shit!
Yep. March Ninth. The day Biggie Smalls got murked. Has it really been 8 years? I guess so. Man.
So, um. In other news. The Kings of Leon have a new album. I hate that I like it. But I do. Your boy holds you down yet again.
And have you seen the Rolling Stone with them? They're definitely living the good.
The other day I heard a Beastie instrumental on a CNN news show.
P-Rod is off Girl. But maybe only I care. Apparently they're bringing back Plan B. I can't imagine why, though.
R.I.P. B.I.G.
I have a feeling that things are going to change around here. Software has been procured, a learning period shall ensue, and then a facelift may well be achieved. But not just yet.
In the meantime, this is hot. A turn for the better, lest we forget.
Eric Lamar! Handle it! And get at me! Damn.
Hey. Hey. Seriously. You know that part in The Royal Tenenbaums where Richie's meltdown is on the little TV? I'm pretty sure that one of the announcers is an uncredited Max Fisher. Confirm or deny.
Fuck it. I bet this shit will be real.
Also, hey, you got, like, twenty hours to kill?
I'm actually not all bored today. And I got a job finally. How about that?
How about this?
Oh, you know there's this movie coming out, right? Yeah. So yesterday I re-read the book. Just to get ready. (Because I'm super nerdy and broke.)
I want, desperately, to live in one of these.
Here's a little Something New. Dig the subliminal pun hiding in there.
Oh, and a reading of my favorite poem found, by the Author Himself.
Handle it, Primo.
I wonder if Jenkins is listening. Holler at your boy, Jenkins! Damn.
I hope that shit works, Nebraska. But you know how it is.
Monetary situation notwithstanding, Chapter Eleven coming along nicely. Had to go back to the source , you know?
Anyway, it's lovely. Holla at me and I'll give you a taste.
Meanwhile, here's the other one.
Word to Mister Brion.
Also, how is it possible that someone is so e-famous?
Ack! Check this shit out!
