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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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- A Blog Supreme
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- Piano Jazz

Wednesday, February 11   >>


I was thanked for helping get a band's song licensed on a Chrysler commercial.

In all honesty, I truly had nothing to do with it, with the exception of--maybe--some press.

Is it unethical to ask for Coachella press passes when I clearly have no plans of coverage, and really just plan on suntanning while getting drunk all weekend?

Music Consultant sounds like a dream job, most especially for films.

Music Consultant sounds like a nightmare job if it's for The CW.

My personal rolodex is shrinking. It's one of these sick goals I've secretly held inside, but I'm slowly accomplishing it, and slowly not giving a shit telling people anymore.

I changed my phone number recently, which greatly helped with that ordeal, and I've also departed from the BlackBerry community. I stopped caring about being prompt and available. Wanna reach me while I'm out drinking? While I'm at a show? While anytime on a Sunday? Too bad. You can't. Get over it.

By the way, if you're reading this, you don't need a BlackBerry. And, no, it's not a CrackBerry. It's a BlackBerry. It's a phone with a phenomenal email system, and that's it. You're not important, so stop pretending. You don't even use the e-mail system? Oh my god, you're such a hack.

Tom Leykis callers are the stupidest fucking people to have ever existed. I hate how all of them say, "I appreciate your advice, Tom" at the end of their call, as if their attempt at being remotely cordial is supposed to cushion the reality that they're all minions to this loud-mouthed egomaniacal maggot fuck.

I hate that my stereo was broken and stuck on 97.1FM for two weeks until I could afford to fix it. Talk belongs on the AM.

Kevin and Bean's Wikipedia is fantastic. I spent an hour on it and its external links. Did you know they successfully prank-called France's last president?

CollegeHumor's television show likely won't last, and I'm actually very saddened by this.

Evites are stupid. You want me to go to your party? Call me. I want to hear your voice and judge your authenticity to determine if you either really want me there, or just really want me there to fill up the background space of your stupid Facebook pictures. Hold up those drinks, ladies!!! *FLASH*

Lastly, if you're on Facebook, and are in a state of emotion that includes (but is not limited to) feeling: lonely, bored, tired, sad, bummed, hurt, heartbroken or betrayed, I don't give a fuck.

And you know what? Nobody else does either.