this is the perfect place to get jumped

Month: July, 2014

a short, waking dream

I was sitting in the conference room for a meeting. It was after 2pm, and my eyes were open. As Annetta and Stephanie discussed the last act of the cut I felt this swell of drowsiness lift my lower lids halfway up my eyeball. For a single second, as I stared at the paused scene of two characters on a bus, I mumbled aloud, “Did you get my clip notes of them making out at breakfast with the sandwiches?”

For the moment I was in the zone my breakfast make out scene was fact, as if I had spent the past six weeks researching these ‘clip notes’, puzzling over what sandwiches these characters (an elderly black woman and the bus driver she passes on the way to her seat) would surround themselves before the painstakingly choreographed make out. This single sentence, ‘Did you get my clip notes of them making out at breakfast with the sandwiches?’ unearthed a lifetime of imagined memory, the subconscious gush making me confident enough to speak up for the first time. Thankfully nobody heard me.

Yelp Removed My Only 5 Star Review

“…because it lacks a sincere, firsthand customer experience.”

Decide for yourself:

the best time to steal from bread and butter is weekdays at 12:27pm.

for twenty consecutive weekdays i stole a plate of food from b&b’s buffet and ate it at the table along the window. beside the fried calamari (only served on Fridays) the coconut shrimp was my favorite, and i returned for seconds on days i was feeling invulnerable.

there is a substantial selection, with a station for every major food nationality, excluding middle eastern. however, i only felt comfortable stealing from the sushi counter, since it was already packaged and displayed, and i didn’t need to place an order with the itamae. i do believe it is possible to steal from the other stations at 12:27pm, as long as you place your order with a relaxed tone, wear loose fitting clothing, and take a furtive stroll around the grocery aisles in the back before confidently walking out the door.



i don’t know. i definitely do not try to pick fights, but lately my approach to photography has taken me in this direction, and i don’t know how to best handle myself without appearing to give up. if i use my tongue i’ll definitely get laid out, and i don’t have health insurance, but even with insurance i can’t risk damaged equipment, or worse, loss of the photographs which resulted in the damaged equipment.


the band in matching Mike’s Hard shirts had been covering lame 80’s jams for the past three hours and after several fruitless efforts i had finally convinced my group to peace. on my way out i saw a great photo op in a kid hunched over a bucket of barf, surrounded by costumed mermaids. maybe not IG material, but that would never deter me from snapping anyway. the kid’s friend was wearing a sleeveless black misfits t-shirt and aggressively asked if i was taking a photo, and then stood in front of me with outstretched arms. he did a standup job of making me feel like an asshole, and gave me a bewildered and disapproving look as i walked away, shrugging complacency. later i discovered that my new friends supplied the kid with the bucket minutes before the puke, which definitely entitled me to a photograph imho.


the DJ sped up a jackson 5 track (ew) at the dance party last night and some guy decided to take center stage and forced a circle around him. his dancing was whatever, and he did a back flip, but his narcissism quickly pushed the crowd’s limit and we swarmed in and started dancing again. i asked a beautiful couple if could take their photo, and the beautiful girl agreed as long as her beautiful man agreed. i told him i was a recruiter for a modeling agency and then they asked me how i wanted them to pose. then the narcissistic, back flipping shithead stood between us and said, “no pictures of anyone.” and i said, “what?” and he repeated himself. and i said, “i don’t understand who you are.” and then he got between me and my beautiful subjects and in my face and said, “i saw you taking photos of me. i’m normally a chill guy, but you i saw you taking photos of me.” i said, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said, “don’t lie to me. I saw you taking my photo.” i looked through my phone and saw no such photo, but didn’t feel like arguing with an someone so obliviously misinformed. he stood there. the he said, “i don’t want to see you.” a gust of fog blew in. then he said, “move.” i moved right in front of him, my ass pressed against him. then he pushed me and told me to “get out.” what a lunatic. i flashed him deuces and said he had a nice back flip. I bumped into Izzy and told her to protect me from this guy as we danced but i was looking for his attention more then hers and she walked away. he remained standing in the corner because if he wasn’t the center of attention there was no reason for him to dance, and if i didn’t provoke him further there was no reason for me to dance. i don’t know.