HeРІР‚в„ўd stand behind me in the DJ booth and mimic my movements. HeРІР‚в„ўd request really fucked up songs, then tip me with a rolled up $10 bill coated in fresh cocaine crumblings. When I was DJing there regularly, heРІР‚в„ўd do all kinds of strange shit like tell me he could put me in the studio with some German producer with millions of dollars. This is a man in his late 40s who works in the music industry in various capacities and claims to know everyone who has ever made music. But also, because I was looking for an image that would capture the spirit of a dickhead named Mark (or Marque, or Marc) that haunts Saints and Sinners on the occasional Friday night. IРІР‚в„ўm googling real live douchebags because itРІР‚в„ўs fun to do at work. That fool looks like an ashy ketchup packet. I really donРІР‚в„ўt know who that guy is, but when you do an image search for РІР‚СљReal Live DouchebagРІР‚Сњ, his picture comes up. I figure 1,000 will be enough to plaster the neighborhood and then some, so any of you who's been waiting for the right time to jump on the Palms Weekend bandwagon and write for the site - you know, after I've built a brand and done all the legwork with this nerve-damaged foot of mine - now is your time. Which is apparently not such a safe assumption these days. Again, it would behoove (ding!) you fellas to stop sucking each other off just long enough to come through on a Thursday and get a piece of this. The doorhangers come courtesy of Bamboo Restaurant, the site of our new Thursday night gig which last night was composed of maybe four guys and a bunch of girls dancing with each other, as usual. I did, of course, vocally bleep out the n-bombs. I tried my hardest not to, but am ashamed to report that I rapped Ice Cube's 'Straight Outta Compton' verse from the freeway offramp to NextDayFlyers. the section of Compton the corporations bought and renamed so Becky and Brad wouldn't know they were on their way to The Hood until they were driving by rusting car wrecks and swerving to avoid pugnacious inner-city roosters. He wasn't much help with my flu.Р”Р„nyway, I just got back from picking up a thousand of these puppies from, located in Rancho Dominguez, a.k.a. It would be nice if he wasn't just a bone doctor though. Being Persian comes in handy in general, but especially when you have no health insurance. Franamami says it sounds like a Martin Scorsese movie. Then Unc injected hydrocortizone an inch into my left foot. And as a pre-emptive 'pause', I only know who he is because I was in the waiting room yesterday at my uncle's orthopedic practice and picked up a copy of Latina Magazine with this model named Arlenis Sosa on the front. These belong in the Hall of Fame for marketing, and hanging off Oscar De La Renta's front door for sheer style. If your rusty doorknob receives the honor of having one of these beauties hanging from it, you should immediately frame and place it beside the family portraits. Have you ever seen a sexier doorhanger? Sure you haven't.

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