The Beatbox Sessions

I think the reason it feels so bizarre posting on here is because when I had hit the Friends link, all the oldies starting popping up. The oldies that belong to Julie and Ian and Cevelle and Stevo and Angie; it feels like high school again, but high school feels too long ago. Fuck I'll say it now: It has FELT too long ago for quite some time with me. And graduating from college is hardly the main symptom of my feeling of distance.

I sit here in the "Business Office" of a lofty chic apartment building in New Orleans, LA, wearing my newly acquired, but highly awesome "Cook" shirt. For those who didn't know, immediately after graduating college, I moved to Chicago and attended culinary school for 6 months. It had finished just last week and already its time to return home to whence I came. I don't know if its just me, but Kentucky is a cursed place that never allows its natives to actually leave for long periods of time. The whole time I was in Illinois, all I could think about was coming back. That mecca of idiocy, poverty, non-genial folk, and sadistic traffic cops made me ill thrice a day. Living in a closet couped up around my own posessions in solitary confinement certainly didn't help. Neither did making 8 bucks an hour, 2 dollars less than what I had made prior to moving. All in all, I tried. I really did. I planned on staying and jumping from great restaurant to great chef to great kitchen, but my happiness won out in the end. I would easily return there, but never to stay more than a day if I can help it. The entire city can disentigrate for all I care.

So the prodigal son returns to be the hedonist he was supposed to be these last 5 years. And I have quite a lot of catching up to do. I'll be making 13 an hour. Living in a one bedroom apartment. In my own familar sanctuary. Yeah, I ran away back home. I tucked my tail between my legs and walking away from the fight. Yeah, and fuck you too.

Yours forever,

AR

83 weeks since my last post? I expected golden rubble. A mere erroneous plaque of what used to be. And thus my last pic of when I shaved my head still stands.

People are still on here? My god, where have I been?

All that hair...just fucking gone.



Yeah, I got that shirt custom made motherfuckers. We don't mess with Team Cobra, get it?

EDIT: We are celebrating Kentucky. Only Vermont and ourselves were the only states in the US to not have one of these.




Now, it will just be Vermont. We're getting pancakes yall. And it ain't going to Lousivlle. Lexington.

Let me repeat that: NOT TRASH HEAP SHIT LOUISVILLE. THE GODLY LEXINGTON.

Bow down to the Queen of Kentucky, Lexington.

1. UPS gave me a call and I got pimpled-making pore-sweating excited because that would have meant the perfect $8.50 an hour part time job I could use. Instead, they wanted someone NOW, who could work forever. They didn't want any summer-time only sons of bitches. I hate UPS now. Amazon, oh yoo hoo???

Amazon would indeed be more surreal and ideal. but cockrats wouldn't give me the soup of the day.

2. I left work early to write a book report. That was due yesterday. I have now decided not to do it at all. I love college. The wonderful ethic I bring to this sport. The idea I once had a 4.0 GPA one semester is mind-boggling. Like Boggle. That game does suck.

3. Many wonderful things money can do. For Friday, all in all I:

a. Paid for a roundtrip ticket to London for August 2nd.
b. Got an apartment (nearer to campus)
c. Bought a Gamecube

Now, some fool might ask, "Hey, AR, why the fuck would you buy an already outdated inferior Nintendo System?"

Then I would simply say, "MarioKart Double Dash"

Much to a resounding, "Fuck yeah, I wanna play."

Then begin the bitchslapping with the controller. That hurts too. My bro did that once. To the cat.

4. Yeah, like, fuck college and stuff. I feel like the things I want to do is wrestling-related, work-related, and the college stuff is just keeping me away from said things. College is holding me back, yo.

5. I'd do more jock-hugging of the Talking Heads now but...nah, fuck that. Talking Heads love now!




The rest are doable, but Byrne is just one unattractive rat.

I just read that Byrne ran around the block a few times to record "Drugs". Now that's love. But its also rubbish because Byrne loved the powder. I will not hear otherwise. 

Much hatred for all and to all a good wank,

AR

1. Slut-fucking Christ, it has been quite a while. I can't believe it's been nearly a month since I posted that picture of me and those golden tickets of mine. Luckily, those sons of bitches are coming in handy tomorrow when I watch Ring of Honor in motherfucking Chicago.

2. I don't normally dream of people I barely know but last night was quite an exception. I don't normally speak on dreams, but it was so ridiculously coherent, I thought it was fucking real. Except for the whole Morphine Jim part. I've only seen a few pictures of the bloke, but in the dream, his face was in constant metamorphosis. However, I kept referring to him as such. Weird thing was, instead of me visiting him, he was visiting me.

1. My car decided to slide off of a ramp full of water into a lake causing me to ride the bus back to my house.
2. The restaurant had loads of corn on the floor and no one cleaned it. (WORK RELATED, LOLZORZ) and there were mean fucking black women. Have I ever mentioned how much I'm not fond of young black women? Too much attitude and nastiness for the likes of this bitter, yet polite son of a bitch. Fucking divas.
3. Fuck, I can't remember that much now. There were like 10 things I could muster this morning.

Usually, I know when I'm dreaming, but this one kicked ass and I was rather sorry in waking up at 4am finding it to its terrible end.

#$ - Who cares anymore? This college shit has got me up in arms. I'm continuing on, finishing up next year and getting the fuck out. I've had it. No more nonsense for me. As far as I'm concerned, college is in the way of my work. And bitches, I love money so much, I'd shoot a commie in the head and stuff $100 bills down his throat while dragging his body down the road by an SUV to prove my capitalismness. I will be dying rather miserably.

4. The chaste me is no more. I party like Bacchus, only better with imported goods. Bailey's, Kahlua, and god's gift to saints, Malibu Rum. I hate drunks and other dubious pieces of shit, but brother, I'm a hypocrite once a week. And I can beat gravity. I shit-stomp that shit. Check it out:



Gravity was trying to step up and I kicked it down with my steel toed Harley Davidson shit-stomping motherfuckers. It just couldn't take the plane. It kept pulling me down but I wasn't having it. It would kill it leaving it in its own cusp of matter shards. Hell, I could destroy the periodic table with a swift kick. That's all it takes.

5. I've been finding myself time and time again trying to prove my toughness, which is hard for a man who grew up being a cheap oriental rug. Being underestimated is fine. I mean, when you're 5'4" and not quite an alpha-male Alpha Omega Tau frat fucker, people don't think highly of your rough-n-ready skills. Unfortunately, I ended up wrestling a co-worker of mine a few weeks ago at a party and like lifted the 190lb brickhouse up and dropped him for a nelson and pin. By the end I was blown up and breathing hard darting into his eyes and downed body like I wanted to kill him more. It was bad. In the greatest way. I shouldn't have to do such things, but hey, you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and then you have the Facts of Life.


The Facts of Life.

http://worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=49135

Greatest Democrat Ever. I'll allow it.

BETTER. THAN. YOU.

Lance Storm vs. Bryan Danielson for the ROH World Championship is going to own all our asses.

I stand before you a sloth of the worst kind.

I have sat in my swivel chair doing nothing but read about wrestling, watch wrestling, write about wrestling, buy wrestling tickets, and purchase a wrestling DVD. The only thing that had nothing to do with the aforementioned subject was wanking off, but now that I remember, the DVD was called "Tag Team", and yep...that was wrestling. Just everyone was getting pinned.

I am the quintessance of the college man on his last legs. For the last solid 8 hours, I haven't cracked open a history book, Biology Study Sheet for an upcoming exam, yeah, much of nothing productive for school.

Just shows you just how much I care about college at this point.

This is going to be Ricky Ramone's music in the near future, but not now. Maybe when he wins the title. This is so freaking dope.

http://www.vgmusic.com/music/console/sega/genesis/Winged_Fortress.mid

I'm pretty torn right now, and unfortunately, I don't have much time to make a choice.

Right now in my final semester as a Junior, it's time to make decisions on my post-graduate crap. On one side, I'm doing good in college, I have a hell of a fondness for the study in history and I'm taking a superhard Historical Methods class where I must prepare my 50 page thesis this semester so it may be written in the fall. If I get at least a B, I graduate with honors which would look nice on my resume for graduate schools.

On the other, I'm getting good marks in my role as the Student Manager at Blazer something I take very seriously. No matter how bad my classes or stuff goes, I've been the punctual and obedient worker as I feel I was born for the food service industry. I have been thinkinig a lot about being a General Manager at a decent ***-***** restaurant. My mother has dragged me into this cesspool known as the restaurant world and I can't seem to escape. My bosses have been talking and since they know my passion for it, they can pretty much guarnatee me a cozy job as an Assistant Manager somewhere on campus and make about $28,000 as a starting salary. And hell if that doesn't work, I can always go to some other place with the expanding knowledge I have on the industry.

I don't know. But I think by the summer, a decision should be made.

The awesomness of the Launch Base Zone music is just unparallel.

Nychthemeral: Though, man, I'm glad I'm not an English major.
Strahl Radio: Why is that?
Nychthemeral: Too much pretentious fuckery.
Nychthemeral: "I think this film shows the dominating power of the male gaze through the politics of desire SHUT THE HELL UP"
Strahl Radio: HAHA.
Nychthemeral: I'm down with feminist theory and all, but there's limits to how much I can take.
Strahl Radio: Women, and their fake rhetoric of womanly things.
Nychthemeral: Well, the person that's really hardcore on the 'male gaze' stuff is a guy.
Strahl Radio: God, he had to have been gay. HAD TO.
Nychthemeral: Ayuppers.

-OK, I need this image to bit a bit bigger. Like 3 times the size. I'll keep looking for a bigger pic but I can't seem to find one for now.

-Instead of Nickelodeon Presents, I need it to say RMWF Presents.

-Above WIZARD, I need the word GRAND, same color, font, and style please.

If anyone has free time on their hands, I'd appreciate it. It needs to be done before Sunday. Like Saturday morning and no later. I have to do a role-playing thing for it.

I went to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time (although I have heard most of the songs previously) at Baxter Avenue and here are some things I realized.

1. You can't do the fan thing, if you've never seen it before. Because you will be pissed off and annoyed like I was.

2. If you have seen the movie 100 times before and you go, you will be pissed off and annoyed. Or maybe that's just the Airplane. Yeah, that's just me.

3. Honestly, what the fuck?

4. I believe that was John as the emcee?

5. Barry Bostwick was pretty attractive back in the day.

6. I marked HARD for Molly Sudgen's cameo.

7. I can't comment further. My staggering headache might exhume itself again.

-AR

God, I look like trash. Still the awesomeness runs in this picture.

1. I bought the following:

NWA - Straight Out of Compton

Public Enemy - It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back

The Cars - The Cars

Talking Heads - The Complete Best Of

I used to be such a Talking Heads-hater but I have turned around big time. I even like Psycho Killer now, which I claimed over and over again that the covers were better than their original. So it looks like New Wave and 90's Gangsta Rap is the new Black for the Airplzzle. I seem to go through these phases of being saturated in these genres that tend to last half of the year. It's not that they come and go and I hate them afterwards, but in order to get educated I must become absolved in the whole genre for a period of time. For instance, For the early part of this year, it was Classic 70's rock (Rush, Boston, ELO) and Old Country, genres I knew very little about and had no recordings of. Now, I'm finished with that cram school, onward to the New Wave and (good) Gangsta Rap of its antiquity. My purchases even got a nod from the FYE employee:

FYE bitch: "Good stuff"

AR: "Pshh, I know this is good stuff"

I finally met Lindsey (morphinelindsey ) from Morphine Forum and Oratory fame in her Claire's store. I don't know how many people I must meet in real life to prove to my mother that internet people aren't going to kill me when I meet them. I'm actually thinking about going to Britain in August so I hope she flips her tarpuss head when I tell her, "OMGOZORS, I know someone from Britain too....from the deadly internet! Suck on that dildo for a minute."

Matured, but still her son,

AR

1. I have come to the conclusion that New Orleans has turned my mother into a punk. 50 degree weather turns her (like her fellow NOLAnites) into fur-coat neeeding pussies. Unbelievable. She grew up and came from Louisville like myself where we could stand shorts in this. They whip out the Arctic 180s in this crap. Of course, this is the same town that shut down the airports when one inch of snow came. Pathetic.

2. Instead of checking out the ghost hunts and meandering down the French quarter, my brother and I have been in a battle of space, Galaga to be exact. Back and forth we have been facing each other, specifically on who can get the higher score. I have terribly underestimated my brother though. Back when we had the game on the NES (I think it was 1993) he couldn't even pass the 6th stage. He's kicking ass now like a true shark. So far, I am in the lead with a whopping 271,000 points and highest level acheieved was 29. One level away from the end. A true modern Galaga god.

3. A police car followed me because I was going to attempt a U-Turn. For six blocks in a circle. Thanks New Orleans.

4. New Orleans sucks. The roads are terrible, the French is incomprehensible, and the city is in true disarray. True, the southern hospitality exists in a big way (Go Confederacy) but overall, this place is fucked up. I believe now with my hate for New York and Chicago is that I hate tourist towns. Too many people is never a good thing. Miami is still number one on the bad list though. Enough faggotry to make you sick with cancer.

Good day,
AR

This is a conversation between Morgan Freeman and 60 Minutes's Mike Wallace about Black History Month:

Mike Wallace: Black History Month you find... ?

Morgan Freeman: Ridiculous.

Wallace: Why?

Freeman: You're going to relegate my history to a month?

Wallace: Oh, come on.

Freeman: What do you do with yours? Which month is white history month?

Wallace: Well...

Freeman: No, c'mon, tell me.

Wallace: Ah, uhm, I'm Jewish.

Freeman: Okay. Which month is Jewish History Month?

Wallace: There isn't one.

Freeman: Oh. Oh. Why not? Do you want one?

Wallace: No, no, I...

Freeman: No, all right, I don't either. I don't want a Black History Month. Black history is American history.

Wallace: How are we going to get rid of racism when...

Freeman: Stop talking about it. I'm going to stop calling you a white man, and I'm going to ask you to stop calling me a black man. I know you as Mike Wallace you know me as Morgan Freeman, you wouldn't say "I know this white guy named Mike Wallace". You know what I'm saying?

Ah, may Black History Month die of the AIDS it deserves. Thanks Morgan Freeman.

-AR

I just bought a 16 inch Helme Suonko Viola.

Haha, I must laugh now. Now to get the rust out and find some folk to have fun with.

1. Fuck Tookie.

2. Fuck the niggas, the black dumbasses and white stipid-fuck activists who support him.

3. Fuck Jesse Jackson, Snoop Dogg, Jamie Foxx, and Kanye West.

4. Fuck the death penalty haters. If anything good came out of the French Revolution, it was public fucking executions. Especially since they were all French executions.

5. Fuck the mother who gave him that godawful middle name.

6. Fuck these damn finals I have.

Burn, motherfucker, burn.

Yours in the truest fuck,
AR