Famous friends/fuckers
Well, today's the day. The Giraffes are officially nationwide...their self-titled album hit record stores & websites all across the US of A.
Someday, like in two weeks or something, I'll be able to say I knew them back in the day, back when they were living in a trailer on Eight Mile Road with their mom and working in a factory and choking at freestyle competitions and...oh, shit. Wait...nevermind.
Anyway, check out the listening party for the CD tomorrow night at 9 PM at Hi-Fi (Brownie's, East Village.)
Bitches better hook me up with the backstage action when they play the Garden.
Someday, like in two weeks or something, I'll be able to say I knew them back in the day, back when they were living in a trailer on Eight Mile Road with their mom and working in a factory and choking at freestyle competitions and...oh, shit. Wait...nevermind.
Anyway, check out the listening party for the CD tomorrow night at 9 PM at Hi-Fi (Brownie's, East Village.)
Bitches better hook me up with the backstage action when they play the Garden.
posted by Helen the Felon at 5:11 PM
2 Comments:
Is it wrong to want to screw Mr Lazar so hard his pacemaker busts a bloody load on my sheets?
"Wrong"? No.
More than slightly disturbing? Um...yeah.
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