Blogging from my kitchen's eating station... celebrating Vietnamese Lunar New Year with The Meatball. Feeling broke but inspired, I decided to forego happy hour with hot girls from work so I can eat by myself and blog about life. Life's cool. I just ate the most bangin' wings that I've eaten in a while... I ordered Thai Chili Glazed Wings with a side of Hot Sauce and Bleu Cheese from my favorite pizza shop, Naples Pizza. I arrive there for take out and all the pizza dudes were looking at me; worried, puzzled, ashamed : ( It was kinda weird... then my boy breaks the news...
Pizza Dude: "Bro, we're still out of that sauce that you like :("
Me: "Oh. Um. It's all good, pizza dude... can you mix up some 'special sauce' for me?"
Pizza Dude: "um.yea.ok. sooo confused right now. O.o"
Me: "OH my bad. To clarify: Please mix up some fucking special sauce like... Hot, BBQ, Garlic, Crushed Red Pepper, Parmesan Cheese... improvise, Boyeeee!"
Pizza Dude: "Oh. Word."
Oh shit! They were the best wings. Reminds me of a most stellar moment in time, a few weeks ago when I was crushing buddy beasters with one of my best friends in the company of vegetarian girls. Serious GrubDown. It felt so good. No guilt. No remorse. Triumphant. In retrospect, it was an amazing evening all together. You could say: "The stars aligned"...
I had plans to meet Ddogg and Eddie in Lancaster to get burritos and see some emo bands. Some rad emo bands: Snowing, 1994!, and Grown Ups. In the weeks leading up to this show, I listened to Grown Ups everyday. I'm listening to them right now, smoking weed. That shit will make you feel good while making you kinda sad, which can sometimes feel kinda good...yea. Sad songs about smoking weed, good songs about talking to girls... ugghh. Like, "Fuck Your Emotional Bullshit" - Snowing the Band. Haha. For real, new age hardcore chillgaze post emo math punk rules.
Anyways, I decided to stop by Freedom Gallery first; to see if Joe was there, hang out, invite him to the show. I was positively sure he was going to be there....I get there... He's not there : ( I don't see his car, I don't see him through the front window... my surprise visit was a failure... I went to leave, defeated. But then I see the shadow of some lanky swagger punk rock greatness walking up from behind me... like, a White Trash Ian Svenonius Doppelgänger ...Haaaah, it was Joe... he was at the comic book store. Of course he was. Joe <3 comix <3
After a long and loving embrace, I gave him a magazine feat. Ian Svenonius. I got it for him in CA a few years ago and had forgotten to give it to him. He claims it was his all along and that he let me "hold it". Yea bro, "let me 'borrow' a magazine. I'll give it back later". Haha. NO dude. It was NOT already yours. I am giving it to you NOW. Whatever. He was such a jerk about it. We hung out in the shop and Tifani rolled through in her leather jacket. Fucking Punk Rock. All my friends are Punk Rockers.
We listened to Punk Rock and talked about Punk Rock, we talked about being "Punk Rock". I tried to tell them compelling punk rock stories about my roof collapsing and all my teeth getting broken, but they ignored me... Joe couldn't stop staring at my blazer. He told me he couldn't understand the words coming out of my mouth; my blazer was too distracting for him to focus on our conversation. He couldn't get over how 'fly' my jacket was. My herringbone blazer I bought at Old Navy = NOT Punk Rock : ( We agreed to get pho and all hell broke loose when we went to leave...
Punk Rock Adam was talking to me through my opened passenger door. Joe, parked next to me, opens his door and RECKLESSY SLAMS his door into my door. OH MY FUCKING GOD. ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? uggh. Joe is such a liability issue. He may be the most dangerous man alive. For the rest of the night, I referred to him as "The Most Dangerous Man Alive". At that moment, he was the most hated man alive. I was fucking pissed. Joe was fucking scared. We screamed at each other. I called the police. They didn't respond. Worst, most brutal friend fight ever. We refused to talk to each other for a few seconds. We road raged all the way to the pho place.
In the parking lot, we continued to fight. The girls mediated and we agreed to chill out. We sucked each other's dicks, laughed it off. Time for VietNoms at Rice and Noodles. Good pho. Megan and JoeTif got vegetarian Bánh mì. Punk Rock Adam got soup with fish balls. Man, I love pho. I got that shit with the weirdest meats... tendons, tripe, mystery beef balls... hoping to infuriate and disgust my vegetarian friends, hoping to be a jerk, vengeance against Joe... but they were too open minded... jerk FAIL... we amicably ate our food. No one threw up. Adam dipped his bean sprouts in my spring roll's special sauce. We shared Vietnamese Hot Yogurt. Cream of SumYungAZN. Oh shit! I forgot about the show!
No, I didn't. Ddogg kept texting me telling me that I was missing Grown Ups. He texted me "911. urgent. show is rad. weed science, bro. where are u?". I sexted him back pictures of my wiener. FUCK. I'm missing the only band I really wanted to see. Fuck. It was all Joe's fault. Fuck. Worst friend ever. I tried not to talk to him for the rest of the night. It didnt work. He is too charming. I can't NOT talk to Joe. He apologized profusely; offered to pay for my meal. I refused: "Fuck your fake ass charity. You don't feel bad." But he did. He felt horrible. He violated me. He insisted that he make it up to me. He offered to give me a handjob under the table, just a quick tug, but we were already so late for the show. We had to get out of there. We worked it out verbally; I agreed to forgive him... for the time being. He still owes me a tugjob.
We get to the show and Snowing just started playing. They slay. 1994! slays. Fuck, I really did miss Grown Ups. : ( I buy their merch. I tell the singer bro: "I love your band, bro. You guys changed my life. blah blah wank wank." He was cool. I go buy beer. I go chill with my friends. OG skater punk rock homies Eddie and Dan hang out too. We all hang out. Rad posi-vibes. I wish all my amazing photographer friends were there to capture all the great Kodak moments of the night. I think they were too busy being cool. Seriously. My friends are fucking cool. We hang out. We drink 10 dollar plastic cups of wine. We talk about beards and Nazis, art and dying birds, Tumblrs and horoscopes, christianity and Punk Rock. We talk about how Joe is sooo "Punk Rock"...
Joe tells us a terrifying and most hilarious story about himself, about him purposely cutting his wrist for fame in the name of art. He tells us about how he self-surgeonized his infected wounds with a rusty X-acto blade. FUCKING PUNK ROCK!!!! AS IF YOU DIDNT KNOW BY NOW. Dude is fucking dangerous. That dude is so fucking Punk Rock. Makes me horny. Makes me proud to be associated with him. We drank, we laughed. Me and Ddogg kept talking about the 25 cent wings that were being advertised... "like, for real? wings at the Lizard Lounge? Kinda sketchy, bro... should we get some? omg. look, that dude just got beasters... they look kinda beastin... let's BEAST!" We order wings. They have a Jack Daniels' Honey Glaze sauce. I order that with a side of hot sauce. Tiny wings, but decent flavor, accompanied by cucumber cuts. No celery. Weird, right? No. I love cucumber with my wings and my bleu cheese.
Me and Ddogg eat our wings in front of Tifani and Megan, both vegetarians, I think. They didn't judge, they just watched and ACTED like they didn't miss eating meat. nom nom nom. Me and Dogg crush our beasters. Me and Ddogg talked about Jack Daniels' Honey Glaze with a side of Hot sauce. It's one of my favorite topics of conversation. I talk about 4th meal munchies and how it sometimes cripples me. My friends seemed proud of me for eating 2 whole meals within a few hours. I was proud of Me. Joe told me he liked my blazer. Joe told me he liked my hair. I wish that night never ended. Everything about it was fucking Punk Rock. I miss my friends. I should hang out with them more. I should hang out with them more so I have something to blog about. Real Talk. Kodak moments not captured by amazing photographers. Real friends. True stories. True Life: I'm an ex-Blogger. Catch you on a facebook comment thread. Peace. xoxo
