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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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Friday, October 23   >>


Check it:

The guy making the call in this video is actually a German MC whose act kinda defies stupidity because he spits too damn cleverly. He did a set at our magazine's quarterly print issue release party last Saturday and pretty much tore the roof down with the funny, and no one was even drunk yet. I am a new fan.


I don't know why I still watch 30 Rock when it clearly doesn't make me laugh as much as everyone tells me it's supposed to. You cannot tell me you don't see that writing from a mile away. Someone, fetch a fishing line!


Scoring tickets to U2 this Sunday is going to be fucking h-a-r-d. I seriously can't tell who to weed out because the place is so goddamn gigantic. I don't even want to drive there because you know that traffic is going to be worse than a Trojan game on steroids. Holy. FUCK.


If you've ever typed out "FML" and actually meant it, then I've never met you. Either that, or I've erased you from my memory. You're pretty much dead to me. Seriously. Like, so much, that you're probably reading this from hell. Because you're dead to me.

HUGO: ...so that's it for today, practice your scales up to Gb and we'll see how you do next week.


[Student's mother walks in]

MOTHER: Thank you, Hugo. ...We googled you the other night.
W. ...TF.
MOTHER: ...We saw that you used to have a trio.
HUGO: Hah-hah-hah... yeah, that was my friends and I pretending we knew what we were doing.
I never thought being googled would give me such an instantaneous terror.

Fuckin' chills, man. Chills.