South Carolina’s Finest

This is real.  Seriously. I mean, Mario Lopez is interviewing her.

Coachella Day One

I’m in recovery mode lounging poolside at PGA West getting ready for Day Two of Coachella.  Day one was epic.  As usual.  Traffic was a biyayitch and the sad news of the day is that we missed the Black Keys which were very high on my list of most anticipated performances of Coachella.  With my partners in crime, Danny Agnew (creative director) and Tarik Chihi (bean counter), we managed to buy a bottle of Seagrams 7 before we got to the show and very easily (they didn’t pat down anyone), snuck in two water bottles full a dat whiskey.

The first show we hit was Crystal Castles.  Truth be told, it was a pretty disappointing performance.  What wasn’t a disappointing performance was how much whiskey and marijuana we consumed during the 30 minute set.  We walked into that tent sober, and came out twisted.  After a nice 30 minute session in the beer garden, it was off to see one of favorite bands ever, Beirut.  It was a great show and I loved every minute of it.

Beirut Doin Thangs

By that point, we’d finished both bottles of whiskey and were feelin it.  We saw Girltalk who just blew the fucking roof off.  HIs DJ style is truly original and he just plays banger after banger and mixes the most random songs together ever.

After weasling a VIP bracelet, we went into (what do you think?), drink some more and watched Paul McCartney bring the pain for like an hour and a half.  Truth be told, I really didn’t care about seeing him when I got there but after watching him perform one song, I realized that i was watching a Beatle and not too many people our age can say that.  There was a rumor that Michael Jackson had been helicoptered in and that he was going to perform with Paulie but unfortunately, it did not go down.  Regardless, when he played Hey Jude, I couldn’t have been more stoked.

We were jammin away to his set and noticed someone who looked familiar in front of us doing the same thing, in total fan mode.  It was none other than Alex Kapranos, the lead singer of Franz Ferdinand.  It was great to see a very well established artist singing along to the Beatles.  A buddy and I managed to sneak into some vip bar area that was fully closed where we proceeded to pour ourselves heinekens off the tap.  Pretty stealth if you ask me.

So, at that point, the show was over and we came back to condo where the drinking and bullshitting continued on until all hours of the night.  After a decent night’s sleep, a nice breakfast burrito and a little pool time, I think it’s time to start drinking again.

 

Nothing like walking into Coachella for the first time.

 

Drunk anyone?

coachella

we are about to head out to the desert for 3 days of music & shenanigans once again this year. Stay tuned for pics & daily updates

Darth Hagus Turns 27

Well, ladies and gents.  This weekend was a big one.  In reality, every weekend this year has been in one way shape or form big, but this weekend, we stepped it up a notch.  Brett, aka Darth Hagus, turned 27 and his brother JR who is infinitely crazier than even he is, came in town and brought hell with him.  We went to a great, and classy (see picture of keg stand) party in the hollywood hills on Friday night where there was indoor beer pong (not the world’s best idea on hard wood floors but commendable to say the least), a lot of alcohol and a wide assortment of hooligans of every variety.  We started with shots and ended with a dance circle at four in the morning that consisted of Rich from Nico Vega playing the guitar and people taking turns doing their best and most ridiculous drunk jigs.  I went the route of the drunk sailor, a time honored greek dance I learned from my ex-girlfriend’s dad.  Technically though, my night ended when I realized my phone was dead, everyone left me and my best sleeping option after the inflatable mattresss didn’t work was three blankets and a nice piece of hardwood floor that I could call my own.

Stay Classy Hollywood

DAY TWO

So after getting breakfast at the Belmont and getting dropped off at my car, I went home to recover for the next several hours.  Well, Pete Giokas (Kid D), Brett and his brother didn’t.  It’s tough to when you got a hotel room at the Roosevelt.  If you’re gonna pay the money to stay there, it’s kind of a prerequisite to start drinking by no later than 2 PM.  And hanging out at the pool.  Even it’s overcast and windy.  It’s what’s got to be done.  Dinner was at Citrus at Social Hollywood where Hagan works.  Doing a rowdy dinner at your place of employment is always a dodgy proposition (see Pete Giokas and Nobu San Diego).  On one hand, you usually get hooked up with a great deal which is always important at a swank hollywood restaurant.  The problem is, you risk embarrassing yourself and potentially jepordizing your employment if you and your friends get totally obliterated and act a god damn fool inside the restaurant.  Well after drinking for six hours at the Roosevelt, Brett & Co. came into dinner with a full head of steam.  Me, being a lazy hungover clown, ended up punting on dinner but from what I hear, it involved a lot of alcohol, not much food eaten, and many foul mouthed obsenities being screamed out to the utter dismay of the restaurant’s fellow patrons.  After being asked to leave on several occasions, the gang finally took the hint and kept it moving to Kiss Lounge where I joined them.  Kiss is a hot LA club that Cammy’s boyfriend (cammy is also an owner of Kid D), promotes at.  JR, being the gangster and a gentleman that he is, stepped it up and got us two bottles of Grey Goose.  The reality is, everyone was so drunk when they got there, that I feel like a six pack of beer might have been the smarter call.

Everyone was on their game though and kept drinking heavily.  It really wasn’t only until about 12 AM that the wheels really started to fall off.  Brett, so drunk off of the several coctails and shots (included a completely unnecessary double gulp shot of jaeger I bought for us which really wasn’t fair because I was just getting drunk and he was three sheets to the wind already), started to come apart at the seams.  First he fell into a group of four girls who were less then impressed and then he did his best Chris Farley impression (type in van down by the river on youtube) and straight fell onto a table covered with glasses, ice and mixers.  At about 1 AM, Brett came up to me and repeated the same thing about thirty times, “I’m done.  I’m done. I’m done.” and I started to develop a sneaking suspicion that he was, in fact, done.  JR, after hazing him to step his game up and drink more, finally caved in and took Brett to catch a cab home.

Cheese! I'm taking a piss.

While all this was happening, a very peculiar scene was beginning to develop on the dance floor.  Pete Giokas, actually it was his alter-ego Giorkas, was getting after it on the dance floor and for whatever reason, decided his shirt was optional.  Now, to describe Kiss better, it’s by no means a big, mega club and in no way does it evoke any type of spring break behavior that was clearly taking place on the dance floor.  It’s a small, intimate, high end spot, with dolled up women, a tough guest list and $500 bottles of grey goose.  So Pete decides to take off his shirt and starts waving it around his head.  The bouncer quickly asks him to put his shirt back on which he does.  then, Pete thinks it’s ok to pull his shirt over his head around his neck and to better accessorize, uses his dress shirt as a scarf/bandana around his neck.  Enter bouncer stage left to ask Pete again, this time not so nicely to put his shirt back on.  This happens literally 8-10 times and finally Ponce, who for whatever reason was in a very good and forgiving mood that night (not usual by the way), intervenes and warns pete, one more time and he’s out.  In all reality, had he been a random person that Ponce didn’t know, he would have been gone the first time.

Knowing when to hold em and when to fold em, we stumbled out of Kiss only to continue the festivities at the Roosevelt.  After clearing out JR’s mini bar and fully watching the sun rise, it was time for bed.  I stumbled out of the Roosevelt at ten am, half the man I used to be.  Happy Easter everybody.

Pour me another homie.

Whatchuwant?

Viva David and his Dentist.

I swear to God I’ve spent 29 years on this earth attempting to get as fucked up as possible, and then here comes young David, fresh from the dentist, to knock me out the box at the ripe old age of seven. Additionally, can we bring back random lion roars please? I mean, I don’t know how appropriate it is to idolize someone less than a quarter your own age, but whatever – Jesus took to the pulpit as a tyke too.

motivation

So I just woke up at 730pm, which is ok. But i got tickets for Ratatat tonite & my motivation is waning. In cases like this, I just watch these two videos & say to myself, get yo head out yo ass son. Lets go big kids. Holla

get it while its hot

Project Las Vegas

These are some pics of the crew in Las Vegas for the Project Trade Show back in the middle of February. Details are hazy-to-black. We kept it classy as shit stayin up in the Hooter’s Casino & enjoyed many 4am hot-wings for $0.25 at Dan Marino’s Restaurant, the finest food that Vegas has to offer. Oh, and i think we sold some clothes too

tell me that aint gangsta

Obama chuggin a Natty Ice courtside at the Bulls/Bullets game. Best part is the dude talkin shit about the Bulls to Obama while wearing an Obama t-shirt.

f.u. mom & dad

If you buy the new Guitar Hero: Metallica from Best Buy this week, they give you this kick ass tattoo sleeve that all of your friends will be the envy of. Just imagine showing up to your 7th grade Geography class with this beauty on. Its like a big fuck you to your teacher, classmates, your parents & society in general. Supplies are limited, so get em while they’re hot. Skinny arms need not apply, cuz no one likes baggy tattoo sleeves. And with the amount of Guitar Hero you play, you may wanna consider picking up a real guitar instead of a plastic one, you little shitheads. Have a nice day