boomin' words from hell...

so i've slowly been piecing together wednesday night. people keep telling me stories. basically, i did my show, and then proceeded to drink the bar out of their heineken and jack daniels. drinking with nevada is not the best idea for me. i can't keep up with that kid. my leg was all fucked up the next day, i'm told i tripped over some cords near the stage and body slammed the floor. i vaguely remember this. explains the bruises. we went to call the office after the embassy, at least this is what i'm told, but i really have no recollection of going there at all. i'm also told i invited a bunch of people back to my house. so, at home, i go to take a piss, realize i can barely stand, and go straight to my room to crash out. my flatmates were also pissed at me, i'm told, as we were loud and obnoxious. somebody woke me up, and i walked out of my room to say good night to everybody. i was told later that i walked out completely naked and was talking to everybody. i later found out that this was, in fact, not the case. jesus, don't make up stories and fuck with my head like that...



last night was pretty chillsville at the bar. my buddy paul and his girlfriend emily were in town from montreal. paul's awesome. one of the raddest dudes ever. he's the cat who built my website for me. anyway, it was nice to see them. we hooked up for breakfast today at prince albert's diner (burritos, perogies, and v8 caesars, yum) before they headed back on the road to toronto for a few days...



here's another stupid idiot bar customer story. these two cats come in just before last call. they order a jug of welly lager, and two shots of vodka. i pour the jug, and the two shots, and then make a few other drinks for some other people. the two guys are sitting there talking to each other. (last call is at 2am, which means it's against the law for us to serve drinks past 2am.) at 2:03am the one guy says to me, "hey man, can you top up our shots?" i'm like, "what do you mean?" (i thought he was kidding around or trying to funny.) he's like "man, you didn't fill the shot glasses." i look at the shot glasses, and there's literally like a millimeter between where the vodka is, and the rim of the glass. i'm like "dude, are you serious?" and it goes a bit like this...



dude: "yeah, they're not full."

me: "dude, seriously, you're joking right? it's like a millimeter from the top, if i put like one more drop of vodka in there it'll just spill out as soon as you pick it up."

dude: "no, i'm serious, top them up."

me: "look man, it's past 2 o'clock, i can't legally pour any more alcohol right now."

(i'm just looking at this guy in disbelief, like, he's got to be kidding.)

dude: "yeah, but you already poured the shots."

me: "i know, i poured them before 2, i can't pour any more."

dude: "i'm a bartender, i know the law, it's not illegal."

me: "funny enough, i'm a bartender too, and yes, it is illegal."

dude: "when you're paying $4 for a shot, you want to make sure you're getting a full ounce."

me: (kind of fed up at this point, he's not joking, he's just an asshole.) "okay man, tell you what, come in tomorrow and i'll give you a couple of drops of vodka on the house."

i just turn around and ignore the guy at this point. they go outside on the patio, and then a little while later when they're leaving, the dude kicks over one the tables. i can't believe people sometimes. you're that much of a loser/alcoholic that you're getting all pissy about what amounts to like a drop or two of vodka that you just would have spilled on your shirt anyway? morons. don't come back. we don't need you...



cruised through dr. disc to see if the new public enemy album was out yet. nope. went next door to grooves and dug through the used cds for a bit. found esham's boomin' words from hell. years ago, i bought this on cassette, on a whim. i had no idea who the dude was, but shit looked hardcore. "4 all the suicidalist" is a wicked tune. "i'm just another brother from d-e-t-r-o-i-t / i pack a smith 'n wesson 'cause i don't know karate." killer lyrics. "i'm a headbanger / acid rap slinger / getting on stage / holding up my middle finger / saying fuck it / and grabbing my balls / 'cause other emcees got shit in their drawls." amazing. find it. detroit's finest. buy it...



i also picked up the high speed scene. i've never heard these cats before, but they're on star trak, and it was in the used bin for cheap, so i thought i'd take a gamble on it...



it's news to none, but they got a good little camp happening over there... everybody who knows me, knows how much i love the first n-e-r-d album, clipse are sick as shit, kenna, spymob (i really want to check out their latest), and kelis (who we've all been in love with since "caught out there,"... i just want to know, whatever happend to lee harvey?

so i googled lee harvey, didn't find anything, but came the the uncensored version of the lapdance video. ain't that some fly shit?



here's some other shit you might want to check out. the breakestra got a new one on the way soon. you can probably find info on it here.



matt and i are djing at the alex p. keaton two sundays from now. it'll be a good mix of 90's rap and 60's rock. i'll have a flyer up soon...

lasers,
ryan