^ Yeah, I did that too.
What the fuck is good party people?!?
This drop will be on some spaz shit with my grammar and spelling all over the effing place. Put the women and children to bed if you have to, even though it’s something something in the morning when you are reading this.
Shouts to my folks at ThinkTank Marketing who stay hitting me off with the industry popoffs that have the “Obama”. That is my new word for open bar functions – Obamas. It’s a celebration bitches. Your DVD’s are in the mail.
A couple of commenters have asked about the Blu Cheez Ghetto Celeb photo galleries and why there aren’t any more jiggly asses or tatas on display. The boss of this website, Chocolate Snowflake, decided that all the images that aren’t digestable for undeveloped stomachs should be made private. If you want access to these galleries then you need to request a username and password from Blu Cheez. E-mail him. He’s a good dude.
Back to the matter at hand…
I am constantly thinking of shit to do at this website to make this space interesting and worthwhile for you readers to continue to find us in your browser. With a proliferation of good weblogs on the internets I feel like our job here might be almost done. Several of you have asked me to complete the memoirs of my New York City journeys and I strongly consider that feedback. Although, writing a gut-wrenching tell-all book for seven people seems like more of a vanity project than something that will ultimately be worth my time. Oops, the eight readers that tune in on the regulack (my badd Candice). In any case maybe some more blog drops about vintage New York City are what we need to wrap up this website.
Did I say biggup to ThinkTank Marketing? Last nite’s “Obama” was at a space currently called Plumm. Back in the days this space was called Nell’s and it was one of the great NYC clubs. Nell’s was in the cut as far as clubs operated and there were always celebrities in the basement lounge. Back in those days I made my side scrilla from grams and eightballs of that yayze. Nell’s was non-descript and their wood paneled bathroom was ultra-classy even without having an attendant. I don’t really miss those days since they were spent in a haze of yayze.
GOD blessed me by giving me a day job across the street from Nell’s. I just called it a job, but it was really the Old Jew’s classroom. That’s where the Old Jew taught me the true meaning of being one of GOD’s chosen. If you are a real Jew, a REAL JEW, then your responsibility is to teach man, to show man the light. That is the singular divine obligation of the chosen. Each one, teach one. If you aren’t a teacher then you are only jewish. My apologies to all the folks that are only jewish. Maybe one day you too can be one of the chosen. Anyhoo…
I have watched West 14th Street transform several times over and over again. If New York City has an actual heart it is prah’lee somewhere in between 14th and 34th Streets. Sixth Ave is definitely the aorta. I don’t know shit about vascular systems and I don’t even know why you are reading this shit right now. Go click over to some other website where they are talking about gossip and the Grammys. I’m not feeling that shit here today.
What I am feeling like doing right now is enjoying the Toy Fair at the Jacob Javits Convention Center and enjoying this buzz from eight rounds of Bombay Sapphire and tonic water. My mic sounds nice check one, my mic sounds nice check two. Shout out to all the folks that read this shit and have no fucking idea what the fuck I am talking about but can find the one sentence of truth and make it work for their life. I respect that courage. That isn’t just the liquor talking either. Okay, maybe the liquor is talking, but I meant what ever the fuck I just said.
