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Okay, seriously, first of all, I call dibs on the lush with the chin braids. That's freakin' hot. No, scratch that, it's hawt. Secondly, find the spelling error: "synical attitude" Thirdly: You live a charmed life, Miss Cupcake. You and your Ministry and me and my Famke Janssen should go have a pants party, sometime in the near future. Endthought: I'm thinking you should've totally made out with the chin bearded guy, and then you should've sent him to New York to make out with me, and then we could've fought over him, like scorned lovers, and then maybe we could've thrown a milkshake in his face. I originally was thinking a cocktail, since that'd obviously be the drink of choice over a lover's quarrel fight, but milkshakes are much stickier, so if need be, we can just take a little pit stop at the In and Out and grab the necessities beforehand. Deal? Fantastic., Second Endthought: Fantastic is really a fantastic word. You should make a point to use it more often, because really, it'll make you feel...fantastic. . Posted by [antesa] on Sunday, May 28, 2006 at 8:59 PM [Remove] [Reply to this] Cupcake okay, tell me you enjoy making out with a man in his forties [who looks like he's in his mid-fifties due to a twenty-year heroine habit] while his polyester chin braids brush up against your face. Meanwhile you reach down to get a feel of what you might encounter later into the night and you find this!: Image hosted at PICTUB.com The kudos are for spotting my spelling error. Posted by Cupcake on Sunday, May 28, 2006 at 10:44 PM [Remove] [Reply to this] Coco I laugh, I cry, I shit myself a little. Glad you stood up for yourself. I have been known to punch a set of balls or two. I think Al got off pretty easily with the simple facial hair tug. Some guys think they are hotter than hot shit but literal hot shit not only stinks but will burn you! wOOt to CCup not getting burned! That being said... I want nasty rawk stars to hit on me. It's been a while since I have been in a good ol' fight. Er, with strangers! Posted by Coco on Sunday, May 28, 2006 at 10:08 PM [Remove] [Reply to this]
Thursday night my mom and I took my grammiekins to Ponzu, a classy 'asian fusion' restaurant and lounge that I often frequent. Much to my surprise when we walked in, the bar was smothered with psuedo-rockstars and thier pathetic following of roadies and groupies. Bridjette, my favorite bartender and friend, informs me that it is the band none other than Ministry. A terrible 8o's "rock" band that should have stopped touring ages ago. [They were guests in the Hotel Serrano, due to thier upcoming show that Friday at the Fillmore]. The beggining of the night worked itself out in perfect formation. We were seated in my friend, Jeremi's section, who just so happens to be awesome at his job [minus the fact that he was cussing in front of my grama]. It was perfect because it seperated my precious, innocent grammie from all the disorder that was slowly unfurling inside the lounge. We finished our dinner and I escorted her and my mother out of the bar and went back inside to soak up the sultana martinis and the commotion that I had surrounded myself with. Little did I know what events were about to take place. First of all: [just so you can get a good picture of what we were dealing with here] this is a promo picture that I found on Ministry's terrible website:: Image hosted at PICTUB.com On the far left is Paul Raven, the former bassist of a band called "Killing Joke", who is now working with Al Jourgensen, the lead singer for Ministry [second to right with the cowboy hat]. These two were the most obnoxious out of the whole crew of [maybe] twenty. Never in my life have I been confronted with such pompous, arrogant behavior from individuals who had no cuth, or the right to place themselves on a pedestal of any kind. Al was the first person I was confronted with, who thought it necessary that I sit with him and his followers, and converse over red wine and crabcakes. He conveniently placed me next to Raven who found it irresistible to make fun of my leopard earings [which he had mistaken for tortoise shell, and gave me the nickname "turtle girl"] and my "cynical attitude". I quickly reminded him how his facial features resembled that of Tim Curry in Rocky Horror Picture Show [the likeness was uncanny], and that i can picture him in a corset with stilhetto heals and red lipstick. He recanted, told me that I was a stunningly gorgeous and voluptous woman, and proceded to come in for a kiss which I immediately pushed him away with a grunt of some sorts that he made fun of. Too bad, so sad. And then there was AL. He looked at me with a drunk stare while wobbeling side-to-side, and said "you have beautiful lips...so full". He was so saucy from the thirty-five glasses of wine consumed throughout the afternoon, that he too, thought it necessary to try to kiss me. I pulled away in utter disgust and yanked on his chin-braids as a way to deflect any negative attitude that was to be expected after being denied. He took it well, as though he might have been used to the rejection. Either way, as the night progressed, so did thier inebriation. The next thing i knew, my friend Matty, was denying them service and an argument arose. They were finaly kicked out of the bar after a long night of lighting up ciggerettes and joints inside the bar, fucking the groupies in the womens restroom and cursing and yelling so loud that the entire restauraunt was highly annoyed. One thing is certain: all of us at Ponzu were highly entertained, and it made for great conversations and memories to discuss later in our lives.
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