chicks + bmx + kungfu = goodness

after being inspired by this excellent blogroll, HERE...eventually led me to this fine piece of cinematic material.

sweet dreams, farrah...say hi to all my pets!

when asking everyone to chime in on their feelings of our dearly departed, it was an overwhelming mix of grief, sadness, relief, reminisce...but i think my friend, tony, crystallized it eloquently in his uncanny ability to boil it down to the lowest common denominator with his recollection, un-edited portion here:

"...my friend's paper cut on his dickhead as he tried to fuck a hole he cut in that poster..."

what's the famous saying? for every dick paper cut, an angel gets its wings!(?) fly on, ms. fawcett...fly on...

party of one...

in my ongoing tirade of funk-fakers, touched on here, and also here...chalk another one up for the original ice age hipster above, out-trending the more obvious tragically trendy fix-ster. here's a quick profile:

Streety...

uniform: trilby, wht shades, skullXbones braces, ironic britney spears ringer tee, skinny jeans, adidas, fixed gear

favorite band: phoenix, paramour, metric

bullied as kid by: upperclassman varsity jocks

Salty...

uniform: filson guide vest, 'boyfriend' jean shorts, nike acg kicks

favorite band: benny goodman orchestra

bullied as kid by: velociraptors

verdict = Salty wins handsdown. afterall, HE is the one runnin' game on the 'ol bird in the pic. when was the last time you crossed over on a blonde whilst wearing protective headgear?

rugburn #6,744

file under: dreamgirls

grin and bare it....

remember those lollipops from the dentist you used to get as a kid? it is absolutely amazing the power of those things and its' ability to bring one back to a simpler time, a happier time, a free-balloon-birthday-suit-time!

kiss your mom today, SHE deserves it...

too much knowledge, no wisdom...

i thought the poseur neophyte-skater-alterna-hip-hop-biker kid was the most perpetratin' bitch on the planet- WRONG - a surprising new culture has emerged from the geek chic gonad of the early 00's --- known to most as 'trad', these cockpunches are always waxing poetic about some 'golden era'. their need to align themselves to the cliche'd iconic blah/blah (mcqueen, dean, shelby cobras, the great gatsby, anything ivy league, etc.) and the particularly annoying talent of co-opting intrinsically timeless fashions and gumbo-souping it into nothing more than an adult 'costume' (i.e. classic cars that are replica or rental car club + dandy-ism + harris tweed hat + bespoke + 501's + mackintosh trench + haberdashery-this, sartorial-that...) - kneegrow puhleeze! your mom showed me pics of you with an assymetrical haircut at a morrissey concert.

i still can't decide which greenhorn-rookie-trainee initiate i'd rather punch harder(???!!!). let's visit a timeline of him anthropologically, shall we...

nuevo prepster (humble beginnings, now, future):

10-20 yrs: acne, wet dreams, skinned knees from falling off schwinn (bicycle, OR his dirty uncle), first car = ford festiva/geo metro

20-30 yrs: slave to trends, squanders money on nordstrom mannequin rigs in hopes of looking like current mtv reality hunk

30-40 yrs: realization of victimization, buys first cashmere cableknit sweater, cliff-notes educated on 'history' via newly digitized LIFE Magazine images, adaptation of 50's-60's "lifestyle" thru every other trad blog and is all of the sudden an expert of mid-century modern design 

40-50 yrs: paunch no longer fitting in birdwells, the ll bean zip-off pant-shorts ironically bought as 'vintage' 20 yrs ago is now being purchased online in xxl with 'marlboro miles'

60-70 yrs: dunlop of a belly has graduated to a full-on boiler, one filled with whatever chilean wine his sychophant scenester friends recommended sampling at gallery openings in their 30's.

80-90 yrs: after chicken-hawking ladyboys in chinatown on the downlow, out'd at funeral by all the goldenboy chickenpunks now 'eyeing' said deceased peers (peers, undoubtedly dressed in their best wingtips and barbour jkts).

hey johnny-come-lately, my balls are on your chinstroke!

lookin' sharp(ie)...

tales from the crypt....

today's post on our dearly departed, comes to us from todays guest blogger: sneaky pete --- his eulogy was so succinctly put it appears here, un-edited:

"

watching kung fu every week could have been the highlight of my week as a kid.  who didn't make some form of a throwing star after seeing him dodge them from the elders for initiation passages?  who didn't imagine the pain of picking up that hot branding thing with your forearms that looked like a mini hibachi, and feeling the subsequent relief of the snow, post dragon brand?  who didn't smile when he took on 4 western rednecks and dropped them all?

my 3 year old daughter practices her kung fu everyday only because there was a tv show back in the early 70's that burned a mark in everyone's head that watched it.   shit, i am writing this right now wearing my paul frank "kung fu" pj pants circa 1999!

hey david, you shouldn't have hung yourself, you cop out.  why not hire a guide to take you in the jungle 2 hours outside of bangkok to track down a tiger, pay said guide 1,000,000 Baht to look the other way, jump out of the truck and onto the tiger's back for a real death match.  that's how you go out if you are the legend of kung fu.  hanging yourself with a phone cord from the Hyatt, Bangkok is for business men from ny who hate themselves for all the he/she chasing, coke and lies to their wives each and every Skype session while on their "business" trip to the far east. "

shoulda, woulda, coulda,

this post goes out to calvert...

...congrats on you're new gig! we really are, all, happy for you. you better brush-up on your excel and your assortment plan cycles - if you need the old template, i have it somewhere in my arsenal --- but may have to dig back a few laptops/jobs/server dumps --- lord knows i got A-LOT of them!

disclaimer: this post will only be funny to a select few.