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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.

I Approve Of These Links

- A Blog Supreme
- AdamRiff
- AdFreak
- Hermitology
- Losanjealous
- Piano Jazz


Wednesday, December 23   >>

GOOGLE READER (1000+) IS THE MOST FUCKED SITE I'VE SEEN IN A LONG TIME

Linking it would only encourage him.

It's gotta be a him.

Guy's crazy, man. Uh, er, *close*

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Meet Allison, 6-years-old.
ALLISON: Hugo you know why I think you're a good piano player okay I'll tell you why.

HUGO: ...

ALLISON: Your hair is big.

HUGO: Eh? Wha?

ALLISON: Only crazy people have big hair.
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My hair is always a topic of conversation. I don't think it's that big. It looks like Beakman's hair, from Beakman's World (because, let's face it, you know a LOT of Beakmans). I mean, I know I have to use Kangaroo spray (which is some pretty heavy duty shit) to keep it up (that's what she said) but people swear it could be a float at the Rose Parade. Often times people will say, "DERP DERP HAR HAR WHATCHA DO, HUGO, STICK A FORK IN AN OUTLET? HAR HAR." No. I did not. I let it grow for a month and I blew-dry my hair. That's what I did.

That's what I did, you stupid idiot.

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UFC: Ultimate Faggot Competition

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I always forget that the Christmas season always brings a surprise side gig or two or seventeen, which makes pretty nice gift buying cash. But when I add up all the numbers on Boxing Day, it makes me wish I were a Jew. A Jew who plays gigs during the Christmas season. It'd almost be like hacking Christmas.

Jews really are amazing, huh? I suppose it's a nice consolation prize.

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The moment I first tried Chatroulette, I saw a guy's penis. That just about did it for me.

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When I hear the song "Billie Jean" now, I think of this twisted story arc on an episode of Maury.

"Michael, you are NOT the father."

"SEE, BITCH? THE KID IS NOT MY SON. *violin riff*"

And then they all have a communal suicide. Bad ass.