Apparently, a homie with a hellafied gangsta lean (my guess? Snoop Dogg! He’s doing a show at Fillmore tonight!) is hanging out at an underground venue (my guess? The Cellar is on Sutter. And it’s THE CELLAR. WHICH IS UNDERGROUND. AND GHETTO CLASSY. However, I am open to other suggestions…) tonight. It’ll prolly be hella late because of the show but also THIS IS ONLY A GUESS. But an educated one, b/c I know my Snoop Dogg, okay? I basically just outed myself as someone who smokes a lot of weed, huh? Well, I don’t! I just have the taste of someone who smokes hella weed! IN YOUR FACE!
Also, if you send me a pic of you high with D O Double G, I’ll buy you a hooker. Dead or alive. I kid, I can’t afford a live hooker. I KID AGAIN.
I don’t really know what’s happening on this site, to tell you the truth. I just wanted to post it before anyone else. Blogging 3.0 people, my posts are the wave of the motherfucking future. And really, can you explain the site to me? Fuck it, I don’t care.
I was looking at some of the related videos to the epic DJ NOT SURE vid last night when I stumbled across this jam from MC Oroville. Not gonna lie, this shit is straight up genius. Brings me back. Growing up, my neighbors lived in a trailer and gave me a really skewed opinion of wealth because the majority of my friends lived in houses yet the Ricki’s were the only ones around with a SNES. Plus their mother was the only one that would let us climb up on the roof in the dead of winter and sled off of it. Anyways, they’re probably living in a methadone clinic now, playing Yoshi’s Island and not giving me a turn with the controller. Enjoy:
Considering all the epic crap I’ve watched on YouTube over the years, I can safely say that this is one of the best things I’ve ever watched. Even better than that Avatar shit. Goddamn, they’ll cook you pizza in a trailer while you have sex on rented sheets. Honestly, I’ve become bored by the nighttime offerings of the Mission District. Big Pimpin’ in the Mission Bar jukebox will only take your Monday night sideshow so far. With that in mind…
Attention bar owners: pay these guys to DJ at your bar once a week; it’s the necessary prison-shiv in the kidney this neighborhood needs.
I got urine. We let some creeper status sleep on the couch after we got back around 6am from the “Black Valentine Masquerade” at Mighty last night/morning. It wasn’t a Masquerade really so much as a bunch of burners on shitty drugs trying to find any sort of underlying rhythm to dance to within the constant wave of maxed out bass in between taking cigarette breaks every fifteen minutes to grind their teeth and talk about how to get more shitty drugs. Anyways, the lame club party isn’t the point of this post.
Someone PEED ON MY COUCH. Like slept on the motherfucker and released the contents of his bladder. We think we know the culprit and we want you to know, if you’re out there, we’re coming for you.
As soon as it is confirmed, I will be posting pictures and information on the individual who pissed on my sofa. I would like to propose that everyone in the Mission (and maybe Northern California) engage in a good old fashioned shunning of this whiz-kid for the forseeable future. We can put flyers up:
”HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GUY? KEEP HIM AWAY FROM ANYTHING YOU LOVE, HE WILL FALL ASLEEP AND PEE ON IT”
The amount of rage I felt as I stepped out of my bedroom into my living room to do a typical sunday morning damage report and saw that my couch was soggy made me feel like going to WalMart and breaking 20+ LCD TVS . As my coffee steeped in the french press, I turned my back to the stain. I turn around and the stain is still there. It seems that this tainted furniture is a reality of my life for now.
Mission, we must band together, this day. We must create a pariah. Do it for my couch, your couch, your children’s children’s hovercouches.
I want to know what the Uptown Almanac has to say about THIS:
Here’s the thing: this video is so laced with sexuality, Lady Gaga impersonators, and 80’s pornography-film music that it is very hard for a mere mortal to evaluate. Thankfully, I majored in alcohol consumption and premarital sex in college, so I’ll give this a once over.
Truthfully, I don’t know immediately what brand of journey I am about to embark on. The opening features dogs barking, shaky camera work, and some tranny running through the woods. Zombie films are pretty hot these days and the fact I am watching one on Vimeo will less than 300 views made me feel bleeding edge until…
…some relatively ‘cool music’ begins playing and a fairly faggy (no no, it’s okay. I live in San Francisco. It’s my word too) child actor comes crawling through the thicket to ‘take his hipster princess.’ Now it’s becoming evident that I’m about to experience a “bold experiment in art bridging the mediums of fashion, music, film, and expensive catering.”
As previously mentioned, Lady Gaga smokes some crack rocks and joins the cast.
The video then proceeds to give us a gratuitous shot of an aardvark tattoo, leaving the audience to ponder “What’s below of that tramp stamp?” The answer, unbeknownst to most, is scabies.
Suddenly, a second man joins the cast and there is mad cantaloupe on the scene. Also, this chick had a period all over her own face, which pretty much indicates she can contort her body in wonderful ways and make getting the clap into an “alright” experience.
At this point, I’m starting to shed the hate and get impressed. Last time I was dry humping an ambiguously-gendered person and I got a little hungry, I ate a couple of double-stuffed Oreos and had some flat grape soda. But Christ, this is an orgy of fruit and animal carcasses. Go on…
Now people are finger-fucking the food. I know very little about the female anatomy because I figure if “bitch gets pregnant, I always have a can of Raid and a baseball bat.” But I’m reminded of what the great philosopher Snoop Doggy Dogg had to say about intercourse: “used to be up in them guts like everyday.” Based on this astute analysis of the female genitalia, one can only assume that this is a metaphor for the 48 seconds of intercourse they are about to have.
Abruptly the journey has concluded with some shots of unwieldy fingernails. We witnessed no penetration and I am left with a penis ascending into my lower abdomen in fear.
Ordinarily, this is where one would compose a synopsis of what just occurred, but I would prefer to leave you with this: “Filmed in London and Los Angeles.” lol wut?
Fuck Somecards, ever since they started making you login to send shit it was sayanora, suckers! Now I give and get exclusively from Jesus and the GOP. The great thing about these GOP Valentines is that half of them don’t even make sense. I mean grammatical sense. We all know I’m loosey goosey with the grammer but i’m not sending this shit out on a greeting card, okay?
I don’t know anything about the governor’s race really, except that dude that made fun-time with his best friend’s wife isn’t running, and I think Jerry Garcia is the democratic front-runner or something. Not to be outdone, the GOP’s Carly Fiorina, who is apparently one of the Worst CEOs of All Time (and will therefore be our next governor), came out with this bad-ass Pink Floyd/demon sheep video to connect with all you Satan-worshiping, acid-dropping kids.
(Found via AwwwDamn’s super secret internet posting.)
Everyone’s favorite person named Marin uploaded this to flickr with absolutely no explanation. Shit, we cannot be expected to figure out where it came from, but we certainly cannot be expected to ignore it either.
