Shishing a Kabob in NYC

The sun has been an awful tease lately, only coming out for a few hours in the early afternoon, and then hiding out the rest of the day. Needless to say, it has gotten me all hot and bothered for some extreme outdoor action. (I have no idea why I decided to turn my grilling adventure into a weird sexual innuendo. Sorry.) Since it decided to pour down rain the other night, we turned my stove into a grill using my oven rack.

Yay.

Booty Meat/ Studio B Sucks

Since I am so completely lost in left field sometimes, I went around all day yesterday thinking it was April 10th. This is really funny if you know what my job is. Because of this, I obviously missed the aforementioned concert and art show I was planning on going to last night, as it happened the night before ON THE 10th! Oopsy.

Left with no solid plans post happy hour(s), I was glad when my favorite boy found out that Devin the Dude was playing at Studio B. We went and, of course, just ended up too drunk before he even came onstage--NOT from pounding jager shots or anything, but because he didn't even grace the stage before 2am! I went to see the RZA at Studio B a couple months ago, and the same thing happened. I wasn't really surprised about the RZA situation for entry was free, but this was completely ridiculous. Studio B gets its patrons there and keeps them there all night long waiting on the main acts while the drinks are completely outrageous prices. On top of that, the security there made me feel like I was in some sort of european holding cell. Drunkenly, we did stumble to the Diamond Bar a block away for a nightcap, which generally has a great jukebox playing, tons of great wines, imported beers and microbrews, and yummy cheese and meat selections if you're hungry. Unfortunately, last night a special party was happening, and some really terrible techno craziness was being blasted by a small man welding a very lethal macbook.




I don't know much about Devin the Dude anyway, so I wasn't completely brokenhearted that we missed him. I do know he's from Houston, likes to sample the green goddess every now and then, and I've heard his music "chopped and screwed." I know I've heard the same of Soulja Boy, which I really dig. The only real reason why I mention this is because I want to recognize this weird Soulja Boy song phenomenon I found on youtube for the song, "Booty Meat."
Just search the site, and you'll know exactly what I'm referring to. I find it a whole mess of hilarious, bizarre, and upsetting, but here are a few Hall of Famers




(clearly a dorm room)

Almost makes me entertain vegetarianism. Sheesh.

Bustice

I hear that one or both of those studs from Justice are deejaying at Le Royale (Former Luke & Leroy, former home of the infamous Misshapes party, and now like if you took every bar in the Meatpacking District and put them on a party bus-- but less attractive.) tomorrow (Saturday) night.

SO, I figured that this is a good time to promote myself and post the article I wrote on the deejay duo for the February issue of Bust. This is the unedited version, btw. I don't have the copy of the mag here with me.

JUSTICE- Interviewed Feb 2008

It’s not every day that you get such a deal, but this month’s Boy du Jour gives you a two-for-one with electro-rock deejays Justice. Xavier de Rosnay and Gaspard Auge have spent the majority of the year traveling the globe to promote this past summer’s CROSS album, and it’s been almost impossible to catch them in one place. The group was discovered in 2003 by Pedro Winter, owner of Ed Banger Records and manager of electro-house heavyweights Daft Punk, after winning a contest remixing UK band Simian’s “We Are Your Friends.” Fast forward to now and Justice’s infectious hit ‘D.A.N.C.E.’ has been infiltrating clubs globally, as well as the mouths of teeny-boppers to those of legal drinking age and beyond. Upon their tour through the U.S., Auge noticed, “It’s different in the U.S. In France, we don’t have the 21 age limit [in clubs], so our audience is more between 14-18 years old.” De Rosnay adds, “The people were really nice [in the U.S.] Really crazy, but cool!” Using a giant glowing cross as an ongoing symbol for the group, and songs titled “Genesis” and “Waters of Nazareth”, one may mistaken the duo as a crusading Christian rock outfit. While de Rosnay was the better speaker of the two, Auge does most of the talking, evasively discussing the controversial themes behind their recent album, “Some people think we are radical Christians and some of them think we are just [using it for] marketing. It’s for everybody think what they want.” For now it seems the boys are doing what they want: Finishing up the remainder of their European tour and then settling back in Paris to prepare for the next round of elaborate light shows. If you were hoping to wrangle one of the jet-setting twosome, don’t give up hope! While Auge says he is not looking for a girlfriend upon Justice’s return to the United States, he did add with a gentle stutter, “I am just waiting for love.” His partner gives a bit too much information about his past exploits when addressing the subject, “Yes we have [girlfriends in the U.S.] But she won’t be your girlfriend unless you pee… This is something we discovered in the U.S.A. Golden showers… That’s why we love the U.S. girls.” He says this, exploding into laughter and then adding, “Oh. Don’t put that in your magazine.” I promised him I wouldn’t.

Published Feb 2008- Bust Magazine, Boy Du Jour

Cute, but filthy, those boys. I love their album, but I dunno if I can brave the circus. I'll certainly be attending the Secret Machines show tonight though.

Meat Market

After indulging in shrimp ceviche, a slab of spicy steak, and finding myself at the bottom of a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon (I wasn't alone, I swear.) at the very American-yet-still-tasty-Peruvian eatery, Chimu, I moseyed next door to the bar also well-known for it's meat factor (or meet factor), Union Pool. Showcasing a photobooth, Union Pool, has always been a huge draw for me, as I'm a photobooth addict.
Union Pool is also the place to go in the neighborhood if you are just looking for one night of hot sweaty, skinny jeaned, flannel shirted, beardy passion. Not that I know from personal experience or anything. Cough.

That's neither here nor there though. Last night, as I was sitting in the smokestack that is the back patio of Union Pool swigging back the last of my $2.50 PBR (Shutup.), the high pitch of trumpets and the low blow of a trombone began attacking the air. Just as the baffled faces of my fellow imbibers seemed as if they may have been questioning that last shot of well tequila, a brass band marched through the back gate making a beeline to the special events room of the bar. Being the curious cat that I am, I had to see what the ruckus was about to find myself right smack in the middle of the official CD release party for Vice Records' newest recruit, Dark Meat (AKA Dark Meat Vomit Lasers Family Band.) What an amazing band.

Consisting of 2 drummers, a full brass orchestra, multiple guitars, vocalists, and I think I saw a violinist running around somewhere in the mix, Dark Meat are a band sure to be likened to the Polyphonic Spree on acid or maybe David Koresh's flock with instruments. They are sure to disagree with these comparisons, and I guess I do too, for the most part. This Athens, GA based band boasts 17 members (I only counted 12 onstage), some of which all live together in a communal "100 acre eco-village" called Orange Twin, which could lead to some cultish misconceptions. Cult or not, the product of their mass codependency is pretty magical. Heavy metal guitars are countered by male-female gospel vocals, while the aforementioned brass band plays between big band and free jazz. Eerie and haunting, as much as it was energetic and pumping with the life, this show was one of the best I've seen all year. Sometimes Vice does suck, but not this time, folks.

Strange coincidence of the night: I found out Jim McHugh (singer/guitarist) owned the shithole "music venue" The Onion Cellar in Greensboro, NC. I'm pretty sure he gave me a beer once, while blaring Thin Lizzy out of his van many moons ago. Small world.

goodbye blue monday (it's tuesday)

stars and the bars and the babies with cigars

Last night I caught up on the most recent episode of the newest reality show to fill the hole in my heart since "Project Runway" ended called "I know My Kid's A Star." I have many opinions about this show, so I thought I'd share them, but I know the internet is so much better with photos, so, of course, I did a google image search for photos. Woah. VERY FIRST PHOTO TO APPEAR:

When I thought about writing this, I never thought I'd be stricken with blindness, but MY GOD! WHY WHY WHY GOD WHY?! Seriously. I don't even know how I'm typing this! (Maybe this is an old photo, but icky yah yah! Gah. Nasty.)

In all due seriousness, Danny Bonaduce has not only capitalized on his brief stint of child stardom, BUT his stint as an absolute fuck-up, as well. Bravo! Any man who can move from talking head on a "Where Are They Now?" show to having his own "inspiring" rehab reality show to a show where he objectifies other kids to lead them into their own fucked up careers, AND gets the opportunity to talk about himself before each commercial break (and there are A LOT) should get a pat on the back! He has Gene Simmons and Scott Baio beat by miles, and I hope he gives his agent really amazing daily blow jobs for getting him the gigs.

My initial point was not to talk about Bona-douche-y though. My initial point was, after watching the three episodes of the show now, I have decided I think the show is completely fake. Reasons why to come, but first I want to post the other top result of my google search, which I just think is cute and funny, and sort of makes me want to reproduce.

AWWWW!

A lot of shows seem scripted or at least sculpted by producers, and it's quite obvious that they cast conflicting personalities that will cause drama and make "good TV," but "I Know My Kid's A Star" is just a little too perfectly dramatic. It makes "The Hills" look like "Real World: San Francisco." The main fakey fakers are, of course, the show's two key drama mamas (sorry, that pun was straight out of the NY Post.):

1.
Melissa "Rocky-Super-Tranny-From-Transylvania" Brasselle-

The woman has been in a couple dozen B-movies (Did anyone see Body Chemistry 4? A++++! Three thumbs up! No. Four. Four thumbs!) , so she's the prime candidate to be a stage mom, and desperate for attention. Her daughter, Hayley is as cute as a button, and according to imdb.com has a stuntman dad, and has been modeling since the age of 1 under an agency. That's a lot of experience when surrounded by the rest of the other "novices" on the show.

2.

Gigi Hunter-

(She is so UNfamous, I cannot find a bigger pic than that. Loser.)

Stuck in the shadows as a back up dancer for the entirety of her miniscule career in Hollywood (Hey, she was in Coming To America. Good flick!), Gigi is also top on the pathetic list to push her kid to reach for the stars (later bars.) Great parenting, Gigi! She is also the epitome of the antagonizing Omarosa on "The Apprentice." Her poor kid, Alai seems okay, but that's only because she's in on the fact that mommy has been hired to be a holy terror.

The rest of the cast are most likely just some sad Hollywood hopefuls, but I'm pretty sure that these chicks are being guided by producers to amp the drama on the show-- Quiz Show style.

Oh yes. It's rigged, I tell ya.

SMOKE the Fat

EXTRA! EXTRA! An appeals court has overturned class-action status for a lawsuit seeking $200 billion from tobacco companies for suggesting that light cigarettes might be less harmful than regular cigarettes. 04/04/08 NYT

I remember hearing about this awhile ago when folks were bitching and moaning that they were getting cancer from smoking light cigs just as fast as those smoking cowboy killer Reds, and they were just so f-ing surprised. Hmmmm.

Duh.

This reminds me of another stupid moment in history when Americans tried to blame large money hungry corporations for their bad health and worse choices. Let's revisit the case of Pelman v. McDonald's, the two little fatties from the Bronx who sued Micky D's, because they were stricken with "obesity, heart disease, diabetes, high blood pressure, and elevated cholesterol" at the tender ages of 19 and 14, only after gobbling Big Macs and McMuffins on a nearly daily basis. At 5'6" and 270 lbs, you would have thought the grease loving LEGAL ADULT would have connected unhealthiness to the extra-patty-lettuce-tomato-special-sauce-all-on-a-sesame-seed-bun goodness she was cramming into her face! Regardless of the density of this chick's skull, I suppose she can't be judged too harshly, as her father has been quoted, 'I always believed McDonald's was healthy for my children.' Yes sir, and so are hot pockets. And with that, we shall view Jim Gaffigan's amazing stand up about Hot Pockets.




Anyway, adding to the hilarity of this case, the Judge's last name happened to be Sweet (Just like a McFlurry!) and Judge Parfait-- I mean-- Sweet promptly tossed the case out of court quicker than a trip through the drive-thru.

Thank god our judicial system isn't completely fucked (I said, not COMPLETELY.)