Archive for April, 2009

Coachella ella ella Part2

Posted in Uncategorized on April 24, 2009 by Lupa

What I forgot to leave out in the other piece was a few things

1.  The camping there was on some shit I could not have imagined.  Straight urban camping, everyone in lots right fuckin next to each other.  No space in between at all.  It was a complete trip, thousands of people in tents in this relatively small area.

2.  Anytime I leave home for more than a night, I bring a generous supply of rubbers with me.  The last thing I’m having is me or one of my people fuck a strange chick bareback, no way, no how.  Only thing, this wasn’t the fuckfest I thought it would be.  In fact, if you fucked, 100 people would have heard that shit.  So I go from the car to the campground with my bag, and anytime you do that you have to get searched all over again.  Security was dicks for the most part, and actually none of the employyes knew shit from shinola.  He’s searching my bad and I got this big stash of condoms.  he looks at me and says, “are you gonna need al of these?”  I’m like, man, I thought this was some other kind of shit, and we both start laughing

Coachella ella ella ella

Posted in Events, Music on April 24, 2009 by Lupa

It sounded like a really cool idea.   I was on Facebook and one of my old buddies from Jersey who lives in Miami was like, we’re going to Cali in April and going to go to Coachella.   I had no idea what Coachella was, I had never heard of it.

I looked at it and talked to them and it seemed cool enough. A three day concert festival in the desert with mad bands, and you camp out in tents.  I’m thinking, who cares if I don’t know the bands (and the ones I do I don’t like) this shit has gotta be one big fuckin party, and besides I had never really been to California before.

People hear that and think you have some sort of affliction.  “You have never been to Cali before?” and then they shake their head and don’t want to speak to you.   I went to LA once when I was 12 for a family members wedding, that’s it.  Short of that, I went a few years ago to San Fransisco, and we all know that doesn’t really count as going to California.

The thing is, from jump I realized I had not envisioned this correctly at all.  We pull up and after going through the amazing bullshit task of shleping everything for the car to the site, I realize, wait, this shit is not on sand.  I’m sorry, but when someone says “desert” to me, I’m thinking fuckin sand.  I’m like ok, grass and dirt is cool I guess, what’s the difference, that’s aesthetic.

However at that moment I realized, if I could be so off base on such a simple detail, what else was I wrong about.  Turns out a lot.

For one thing, this is a crowd of people I had never experienced in my life before and I mean ever.  If my old buddy from Jersey wasn’t there I would have thought it was a dream.  When I left Jersey I moved to NY, and when my man left Jersey he moved to Miami.  You don’t find these people in Jersey, NYC or Miami.  This crowd was on some hippie meets European (even though they are American) meets new new new was age gay modern rock, meets straight non urban crown.  This shit is 2 hours from LA, in the middle of nowhere.  On top of that they westcoast bias.  Some bitch OVERHEARD me talk to someone else and she says, “are you like, from the eastcoast?’  I was like yeah, and she made a face.  I was thinking, bitch just get out of my face.

Anyway, all that shit aside, I go into it with an open mind and I’m looking to have fun.  Problem is, even from the beginning shit was like one bullshit after the next.  Let me say this, putting up a tent in the dark while drunk when you never did it is a NIGHTMARE.

It’s Friday morning, the show goes from noon to midnight every night.  The people I came with needed bud so I go into scavenger mode looking for people who have bud.  We smell these people in the tent next us smoking so I’m like lets just roll up on them.  I hear one of them say something about Colorado and I’m like, “Who said Colorado.”  Next thing we know we’re buring with these hippie college kids.

I step out to have a cigarette and end up going back to the tent but my boy stayed back and smoked more.  I go back to the tent and pour another drink and my man rolls up with this look on his face.  I’m like, what happened.  He’s like dude, I was just smoking telling this kid about shit and he whips out a bag filled with nitrous and huffing that shit and after I finish what I’m saying he goes, “what? HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA”  I was like, sketchy!

That was another bad thing, you couldn’t bring your own liquor in.  We had to grease one of the door guys to get our shit in.  You’d think they would at least let you bring liquor to the camping area.

Because you can not enter and leave the concert area, we decided we needed to go in at about 4 or 5, or else we wouldn’t last until the end.  I have my Ipod dock which has speakers on it bumpin, my tunes are blaring, I’m feeling nice.  Only problem is, everyone hated all the shit I played.  It turned into a personal challenge, I was like I have to have something people that go to this feel.  Turns out no, and I have a lot of shit.  The only shit they like is the shit that was playing there: gay, new age rock and gay, new age tempo with the same beat (ready: kick, snare, kick, snare at 125 BPMs)

No matter.  We make our way to the concert area.  We don’t know any of the bands so we just try to walk around check out whats playing.  The whole area is huge.  The have 4 stages, a Heineken dome (which was really cool) some other dome and all of these outdoor visual things.  The visual shit and art was actually the coolest of all.  The main stage was pretty phat too though, they had to gigantic monitors so it didn’t matter where you were you could see everything perfect on those. 

Time goes by and I lose track of it.  next thing I know I’m separated from my boy and really drunk.  I’m like fuck, this sucks.  When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the first act I actually new came on, and it was pretty.

Out of nowhere, Morissey fuckin comes blaring through the speakers.  Morrisey is not for me at all, I hate his music.  I thought I was gonna have a fuckin panic attack when I knew I was going to have listen to his shit.  It’s not that he is not witty and I’m not the most familiar with him or the Smiths, but everything from him I have heard I have wanted to burn and then put in a shredder.  His music sucked, but he is a really good performer at least.

Finally after he was done was the highlight of the whole festival in my opinion: Paul McCartney.  I read shit when I came home about how great his performance was, and they are not bullshitting at all.   I have a new found respect for Paul McCartner, the man is 67 years old and pulled off 2.5 hours flawlessly.  I read he said it was the desert climate which got him in a great mood.  Whatever it was, he fuckin kicked ass.  Ran through all the Paul Beatles songs, Wings, solo Paul, the man knows what people want to hear.  At one point he said it was the anniversary of his wife Linda’s death and he played a song he wrote for her.  Then right after that he played a song he wrote for Lennon after he died.  Killer, killer shit.  The man moves from bass, to piano, to guitar, to fuckin mandolin, he’s got that shit all on lock and his voice sounded impeccable.

What could have fucked up that night?  Well some dipshit ran over a fire hydrant, so that long as dirt road you have to walk through to get back to camp turned into one big ass mud river, and I got my flip flops on.  I get back to camp, drink it up some more and call it a night.

I wake up at like 6 in the morning a say shit, I better take a fuckin shower now because this shit is gonna be filled up.  Turns out that was a great idea.  While all those slackers were sleepin, I was bathin.  Another day goes by just drinkin, smokin some bud, and still no one like my Ipod music.  I tell them hey, this shit is a dictatorship, not a democracy.  I’m the one with the bangin portable Ipod dock with nice ass bass on it, so I pick what goes on that shit.  You can give me your Ipod to play, but I’m still master.

The second day I actually looked at the schedule.  There was no shit I wanted to see that day except Spearhead on the main stage.  the closing acts were the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (NO NO NO) and the Killers, both of which I would have traded for root canal.

Can you believe I had to wait 30 minutes for tap water in the festival.  30 MINUTES??  I paid almost 400 dollars for my shit, we’re in a recession, and I had to wait 30 minutes for tap water.  I had people there ready for revolution.

Despite pledging to not get split up again, we did, and because I had been in the desert sun all day and was really drunk, I came back that night early and decided to take a party on the go with me.  I loaded up the Ipod dock and decided to mingle.  

I meet SOME cool people, but honestly most people were kinda dicks.  They still hated my music, and the more I drank the less I cared what I put on.  I started putting shit I knew they would hate, my hardest rap, fuckin reggeaton, country.  I was like if they are gonna hate, at least let me love it.

I get back to the tent and my friend is there.  Turns out he ate a weed cookie and was really, really fucked up.  He was like, “Alex, you wouldn’t believe the bullshit that is going on here.”  I was like what?  He said I was at the dance dome and this bitch was crying and dancing at the same time and it bugged me out.  I was like crying AND dancing at the same time?  That shit is weird as hell.  Honestly, that sums up Coachella for me and my man: weird.  Weird people, weird bands.

The next day we had it with all the bullshit of being constantly around people, in the desert heat and were like, fuck this we are selling our 3 days pass and getting the fuck out of here.  On top of that, I needed to take a bad, bad shit.  I shit right when we got there on thursday night.  Now it was Sunday, I needed to shit and the toilets looked like some shit out of my worst nightmare.  Filled with shit, smelling nasty and marinating in 100 degree heat.  I said, under no circumstances am I shitting in that, I don’t give a fuck what we need to do, I need to leave and take a shit somewhere else.

After we take care of that, we tell the other people we are with (none of whom I actually knew besides my friend) we’re fuckin bouncing in the rental and what up with their plans.  We’ll really it wasn’t like that, but the other people that came had an SUV, so we gladly carried all of their shit, and our own shit, and then got the fuck out of there.

On the way back we pigged the fuck out at Sizzler and then went back to our friends crib in LA beat as hell.  It was an experience, but no matter how much I liked the bands, I would not camp at that shit again.  The third day I had wanted to see Public Enemy, but I was not staying for that.  I don’t know who else, but the Cure closed the show out and I was actually interested in seeing that.

I guess at some point I can look back at that and say I was there, if nothing else for Paul.  Like I said, that was a great, great performance and I think one people will be saying they saw in the years to come.

My biggest dissapointment actually was that it wasn’t the party I thought it was gonna be.  Yeah people were getting all osrts of fucked up.  People had coke which boggled my mind.  You are in the desert sniffing coke?  do you WANT to have a heartattack.  People were tripping on all sorts of shit, but the party vibe was real foreign.  Top it off, partying was secondary to everyone.  They actually came to see the show and they knew the bands.

In any event, I still had fun.  I got to go to Venice, Santa Monica and hit the In & Out Burger.  To me the In and Out Burger is like  Mecca, I had it once in San Fran and I was hooked.  You guys don’t know how good you have it out there with that.

Why Do We Do Certain Things?

Posted in Misc. on April 15, 2009 by Lupa

Everyone has done at least one of these things.

You are waiting for the elevator and it’s not coming fast enough so you repeatedly push the button.  That’s not going to make it come any faster.

Don’t you hate when you get a shit attack – right after you get out of the shower?

You know you are going to get a refund from your taxes, but you wait to do them until April 15th anyway.

How about those times when you want to sleep in but have to use the bathroom, and you decide you would rather stay in bed with the urge to go than to get up?

Why do we use alcohol to give ourselves the courage to do something that we know we’ll only have to continue when we are sober?

You ever call someones house and ask them where they are?

We buy books we want to read, but know we will never finish.  We think we have the capacity to do it, but we know we don’t.

To be continues…. I think that’s gonna be my new thing…

Going To California

Posted in Uncategorized on April 14, 2009 by Lupa

On Wed, I am going to California for the Coachella music festival.

I don’t hate California, it’s just that it’s the antithesis of how I grew up.  Over there is sunshine and palm trees and in NY and NJ it’s clouds and concrete, and maybe regular type trees, but never palm trees.  Why is it a palm tree?  All I can think of is that it looks like a hand.

Maybe I’m too influenced by the Eastcoast Westcoast rap feud of the mid 90’s.

In any event, I’m looking forward to leaving my surroundings for a 5 days of fun.  To eastcoasters though, Cali is like a different country.  It’s like what people in Russia think of England.


Cali is all about being laidback; NY is about being on edge.  Cali is about sex, NY is about money.  

One thing I always noticed is that, if you notice the hood movies set it Cali, like Boyz in The Hood or South Central, they take place in what we know as suburbs.  Sure they are drug infested, gang plagued suburbs, but people don’t live on top of each other.  NY hood movies like New Jack City or King of New York take place in projects, or project like settings.  High rise projects.  There is something about hundreds, maybe even thousands of people living in the same structure that is hard to comprehend for people that don’t have an idea of what that is like.  You think you hate your neighbors next door, imagine if they were 20 flights up and down from you.

Also, LA thinks they have shit on NY, but that’s not true.  NY has and always will run shit.  When people in foreign countries think of LA, they think of Hollywood, bullshit.  When people think of NY, they think that’s the real shit


fuck it, to be continued

Bums Vs. The Homeless

Posted in Misc. on April 12, 2009 by Lupa

When I was taking a cab home the other night I commented we were driving through a part of town that used to not have any bums, and now you see them.  The cab driver said some thing about more homeless being around, as if to say I don’t call homeless people “bums”.

There is a difference between bums and the homeless.  Not all bums are actually homeless.  Lots of people on the street have places to live, they just don’t want to work, that’s why they are bums.  On the other hand, not all homeless people are bums.  

There are bad circumstances that could force many people to be homeless, but there are no circumstances that could ever force me to be a bum.  I don’t have any sympathy for bums.  If you don’t do shit all day, you shouldn’t have any shit, that sounds fair to me.  I’m not sure why people equate being homeless with being a bum and vice versa.  Someone in a bad spot that finds themselves homeless is gonna try to do what they can to get back where they were, whereas a bum, whether he/she has a home or not is content in the pathetic life they lead.

Sometimes I give money to bums, sometimes I don’t.   I wish there were a magic way for me to know which bums are worthy of some help and which are just, bums.  A lot of it depends on how they approach me.  There are some angry, insolent bums that demand not change, but a dollar or more.  Why would I help someone out like that?  The ones that simply ask you and not make a big deal out of it are the ones I’ll help.  I’ll also pretty much always give a bum money if they are playing an instrument, no matter how badly.  If the bum is very old, I’ll always give them money and in fact I don’t even really look at them as bums because either they have no family or someone is failing them, either way I don’t expect them to work.  Same thing if they are disabled.

Then there are bums that are true bums in the sense of the word;  people from decent backgrounds, who have families to go to and are just squatting, bullshitting, whatever.  One time someone I know saw someone sitting outside a Starbucks with a coffee in their hand and a cigarette asking for money.  No, not a bum bum , but a freakin young bearded hippie bum type guy.  I will NEVER give money to those kinds of bums.  You can tell when the bums are like that.

What is very obvious is by and large the vast majority of bums are American, i.e. black or white.  How often do you see Latino, Asian, Middle Eastern non American bums?   You just don’t see that shit very often.  As a non American I can say that Americans are bred to be lazy and expect shit to come to them.  It’s a paradox because Americans are also very hard working, but it seems either you are a back breaking American and you are a lazy as fuck American.  For some reason Mexicans have a stereotype of being lazy, regardless of the fact that Mexican do the most manual labor as a percentage of their population in this country.  Mexicans have jobs black and white Americans would never fuckin touch for a second.

To be continued….

From The Archives

Posted in From The Archives, Misc. on April 9, 2009 by Lupa

Sunday, May 01, 2005 (a very mathematically conducive year)

Why Are Some People So Depressed?

I constantly think about this. America has such an elite standard of living, yet everyone is pissed off. Guys get themselves down because they can’t fuck some fantasy video girl, women get beat themselves up because they can’t find the guy that doesn’t obssess over fucking the fantasy video girl. I have a realatively modest standard of living, yet I can honestly I’m happy. I get pissed a lot, but I’m happy. Maybe this is because I’ve eaten a lot of shit in my life. I have noticed that people who have been through shit tend to have a better perspective on life that those who’ve been coddled. I used to have a friend who was a blue blooded WASP from old Conneticut money. He was the most depressed person I ever met. He literally had a weekly pill jar, a la a typical elderly person in a home. Monday Xanax, Tuesday Lithium… We really felt bad for him. Why is there so much emphasis put on trivial things to make us happy? I’m sure there is someone out there ready to slit their wrists because they don’t have an Ipod and all their friends do. (In all fairness to that particular example, my life changed immeasurably after I got my Ipod.) You ever wished that when you met a person, you could run some sort of diagnostic test on them to see what’s fucked up about them? Sometimes I think people don’t really want to be happy. If they were happy, there would be no ambition in their life; the boat’s already sailed. Maybe people subconsciously purposely create disarray in their life, for the purpose of keeping the purpose in their life. I think that sounds about right….

Penthouse Club Denver 5th Year Anniversary

Posted in Events on April 9, 2009 by Lupa

Finding events to cover for LIB out here in Denver is a much bigger challenge than it was in NY, however I guess that’s one of the breaks of trying to get an education. Luckily my friend Lainie at Penthouse was kind enough to hook me up with the good people over at the Penthouse Club here in Denver for their 5th Anniversary celebration.

Penthouse Denver is owned by VCGH Holdings (NASDAQ: VCGH), which also own 4 other clubs in the Denver area, as well as clubs all over the U.S. The company owns, manages and acquires nightclubs, which provide premium live adult entertainment and upscale restaurant and beverage services in a first class environment targeting affluent patrons. In other words, they have the strip club game on lock here in Denver.

Prior to being the Penthouse club, the club was a PT’s Showclub, part of a well known chain of gentleman’s clubs going back over thirty years. After a 1.5 million dollar renovation, they reopened in 2004 as the Penthouse Club.

The club has a very nice décor, and one of the things I like the most are the very high ceilings. They have this one stripper pole that goes to the top and everyone now and then you’ll see a zealous lady go all the way to the top. It looks more like a pole in a firehouse than a stripper pole. The place definitely has a lot of breathing room.

The club was celebrating their anniversary all week with various events, and on the night I stopped by they had an amateur competition hosted by local 106.7 KBPI radio personality Uncle Nasty. Uncle Nasty is hugely popular in Denver; in fact the people I know here that I told I went were more interested in hearing about him than the event. Someone even referred to him as a local legend, kind of like their Howard Stern. I got a pic of him with the Penthouse gazelle, though I thought it was a kind of deer. I said I’m not from around here, all the animals I’m familiar with are rats, roaches, dogs and two legged snakes. Unfortunately that is basically the extent of the pics for that evening, as taking pics in a strip club is kind of like taking pictures of the mafia.
The club was decked out in celebration mode, with balloons and all sorts of things.

I thought the place was packed, but I heard that it gets even more packed than that sometimes. In any event, it didn’t look like there was a recession going on in here. It was easy to feel the atmosphere was not that of a typical Friday night.

Being the VIP that I am, I got to hang out and take in the party from the VIP lounge which towers above the main floor. Okay, I’m not a VIP; I’m more like a KIP (Kinda Important Person). Scratch that, I’m a NIP (Not Important Person), which made hanging in VIP feel like being a double agent spy. Up there they have a fireplace, their own bar, bunch of flat screens. It’s good to be VIP. Being VIP however, comes with its price, but I find it is a price many are willing to pay. For $1,750.00 a year (that’s dollars, not Pesos, I made sure to clarify that) you get free admittance whenever you want to any of VCGH’s clubs all over the U.S. and get to hang out in the VIP section all you want.

Before the competition I got to chat with Uncle Nasty and his producer/on air partner Mike Need. It was obvious why he is so popular; Uncle Nasty has personality for days, the life of the party type of personality. He told me he was a huge fan of mine, and I was humbled. Actually, that’s not true, no one knew who I was or even knew beforehand who I write for, but they do now.

I’m not sure how many of the girls were legit amateurs with no previous stripping or dancing experience, but let’s say if they are, they look like they are ready for the stripper draft any day now. I have to say one of them had one of the nicest pair of natural breasteses I had ever seen. In fact that was a topic of discussion, like “are they real?” The consensus was that they were in fact genuine.

A competition like that makes you realize that in general, men are more magnanimous in their losing than women. The contest was judged by a noise meter. When a couple of girls almost broke the noise meter, you could see the other girls had hate in their eyes and all over they’re face. Guys have too much pride; we’d act like it didn’t bother us. 500 bucks is 500 bucks though, and the ladies wanted to get paid.

Before I knew it, it was time to leave, and thus ended my evening at the Penthouse Club. I thought VIP after hours was like crazy orgies and bottles flowing, but it’s actually really closing time. I guess they could see that on my face and they said, “AL, this ain’t New York.” I can dig it a, club run by the books, who knew?

I extended my services to the club. I told them hey, I’ll be willing to hang out here all the time, make it for me like the Bada Bing was to Tony Soprano and in return I’ll write about how Wed mid afternoon was. I don’t think they were interested, but I hope to go back the next time they have a major event in the future.

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