function commentCount($n) { $comments_path = "http://www.untilthebreakofdawn.com/blog/"; if($file = @fopen($comments_path . "comments/$n.comment", 'r')) { $thisFile = fread($file, '1000000'); $thisFile = explode("\n", trim($thisFile)); fclose($file); $comments = sizeof($thisFile); if($comments == 1) {$comments .= " comment";} else {$comments .= " comments";} } else { $comments = "0 comments"; } return $comments; } ?>
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Monday, April 22, 2002
03:55 | link | echo commentCount(85025537); ?>
Sunday, April 21, 2002
Saturday, April 20, 2002
Friday, April 19, 2002
Thursday, April 18, 2002
For more shannigans brought to you in part by the RIAA (and don't think the MPAA is any different), check out this and this. (via awholelottanothing)
Wednesday, April 17, 2002
Of course, there was just driving around with nowhere to go, ending up at Walden Pond and more driving around with nowhere to go and dinner at Carlo's before the movie. That was the best actually. Really the best.
Though I can't remember all of the details of my dream, and I rarely remember dreams at all, I remember this other guy (referred to as TOG from now on) and myself hanging out with Fred Durst (referred to as Freddie from now on). Freddie was pretty true to life in the dream: red New York Yankees baseball hat on backwards, shell-toe Adidas, baggy shorts, bad tattoos, slightly overweight and a mind like a steel trap. So, Freddie, TOG and me are going all over the place, which appears to be New York City, and Freddie is throwing his money and his weight all over the place and is on the prowl for some action. TOG is like some mallrat kid on cloud nine because he's hanging out with We're meeting all the right people and hitting all of the shops, the hip places and restaurants. "Kickin' it with his peeps (or people, I can't remember),"as Freddie put it. We did all the cheesy things that you associate with those summertime network movies that have all the teen stars from all the networks on them (who could forget Poison Ivy with Michael J. Fox and Nancy McKeon?), like riding around in a limo standing up in the sunroof hooting and hollering. I man, c'mon, we're hanging out with Freddie here... After catching dinner with ODB, Jason Newstead, Bill Gates and John Oates, Freddie says we should "kick it" back to his place before we continue with the rest of the night of "partying and bitches." Smart one, that Freddie is. TOG is P-S-Y-C-H-E-D we're going to Freddie's place. Somehow we are transported to Freddie's place in Los Angeles. All I remeber about that is Freddie going off about Shakira and how real and down to earth she is compared to Christina Aguilera. Something about their hair is similar, but that the "English as a second language thing" gives Shakira the edge. I don't know what he meant by that. Anyway, Freddie's got this really fancy mansion that looks like a fraternity exploded inside. The place is actually kind of cool in it's own way I suppose. Freddie's got the place tricked out with dirty laundry everywhere, individual packets of condiments (ketchup, mustard and duck sauce) strewn about, Playstation2 games on a plasma screen tv, real arcade games that you don't have to put money into, an indoor skate ramp, go-karts and a framed, autographed picture of George Michael that reads: To Freddie,Freddie beamed with pride everytime he looked at it. TOG just kept on mumbling something about how he must be in heaven. Freddie excuses himself for a minute, stating he'll be right back. TOG has that kind of look of excitement about him like he is going to explode. Kind of like tennyboppers meeting 'NSync, the Backstreet Boys, or, heck, even Gerardo (I know you remember "Rico Suave"). TOG just can't help but go through Freddie's stuff, saying he wants a place just like this. Then it happens. Freddie comes back and says "It's time for some pre-partying action." TOG quickly drops what he's doing and turns around and is surprisingly speechless, seeing as how he's been mumbling and babbling all night. I look to find a site that should have left me blinded for all eternity. There's Freddie in the doorway, leaning against his raised arm. He's wearing only a leopard print bikini like Steve-O in Jackass, his backwards baseball cap and his shell-toe Adidas. I am scarred for life, if not longer. Freddie starts going on about how this night wasn't "for free and would cost us." Riiiight, I think to myself. Freddie approaches TOG, strokes his chest with his finger and tells him that he needs TOG's help in order to "get loose for tonight" and that "after I get loose, we can't hit the strip and get some chicks." TOG tells Freddie that anything he needs, he's his man. Freddie just smiles and whips out "Lil' Freddie" (his words not mine). TOG is suddenly less excited when he realizes that Freddie doesn't want him to be his man, but rather his bitch. "Go on! Let's get loose!," Freddie ordered. Reluctantly TOG goes down and Freddie, palming the back of his head, says "Don't worry. I'll hook you up later with Aggie," something about she owed him. Barely doing his job, TOG stops and runs out with tears in his eyes. After yelling at TOG to comeback, Freddie looks to me and says, "Looks like it's up to you, man. Let's get loose!" Thinking, "Fuck that. The last person I would go down on is Fred Durst," I proceeded to kick Freddie in the balls and give him a wedgie when he is on the ground, pulling his leopard print above his bakwards baseball cap. Freddie mutters in pain, "First those Buddyhead kids and now you! Just you wait. Just you wait."
The End. How's that for an overshare?
Tuesday, April 16, 2002
Monday, April 15, 2002
Sunday, April 14, 2002
Saturday, April 13, 2002
Friday, April 12, 2002
My three highlights of the evening were as follows.
22:51 | link | echo commentCount(85003417); ?>
Thursday, April 11, 2002
Wednesday, April 10, 2002
Tuesday, April 09, 2002
Monday, April 08, 2002
Sunday, April 07, 2002
Saturday, April 06, 2002
Somehow after that new hairdo, I ended up at a hardcore show. How did that happen you ask? Good question. No idea. It actually wasn't so bad. It was all ages, there were six bands, free ice cream, cake, bottled water, the comedic stylings of Dave Weinberg and it only cost five bucks. The Prowl and the Suicide File were both good and I feel fine admitting that. Stop and Think couldn't play a song to save their sorry asses, but we love them anyway. There wasn't a lot of bullshit. There was a lot of community. Everybody seemed to have fun. Otherwise, no one knows how to dance anymore and I remembered that hardcore kids are bascially jocks in disguise. Yes, I am a grouchy, old man.
Friday, April 05, 2002
Wednesday, April 03, 2002
I was planning to see Dashboard Confessional and Ben Kweller and the Palladium on Thursday night with Ms. Davis and Ms. Austin, but I kind of blew it. On Tuesday, the show had yet to sell out. Thinking about how big the Palladium downstairs is and that if the show hadn't sold out by then, it probably won't, I didn't by tickets. Tonight as a precautionary measure, I thought I should by tickets only to find that the show sold out today. Crap. Ms. Davis and Ms. Austin currently hate my guts accordingly. Surprise, surprise... I did score a bunch of tickets to see Fugazi at Mass Art. How excited am I to see Fugazi? This excited. Picture arms outstretched. I haven't seen Fugazi live in eleven years.
A lovely afternoon was spent with Ms. Davis. Chocolate Peanut Butter Zig Zag Soy Delicious, pidgeons walking like Egyptians, walks (both dry and rainy), and spontaneous naps made for a good day.
Monday, April 01, 2002
I am the April Fool.
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