Heavy D is Gainfully Employed

I Have A New Job

2010-03-23T07:30:00.000-07:00

I have a new job now. I have a desk and a mac computer. I have co-workers my age. I have insurance. I have a 401K. I have a cubicle, but the office has a kitchen and fully stocked fridge. FREE REDBULL. I listen to slacker radio. I make sales. I have a new job and I fucking love it.

Heavy's Quest To See Girltalk

2008-10-22T10:22:00.000-07:00

As you can see I was successful in this quest, however the story behind the conquest is nothing short of epic....

The story begins with my discovery that Girltalk would be playing Houston - Tx at Warehouse Live my birthday weekend, I was ecstatic upon hearing that it would in fact be a free show sponsored by Scion - all one needed to do was RSVP online for the event - once the RSVP list matched the venue capacity all users were told that RSVPs would stop being accepted. Let me just take this time to coolly state in a collected way:

FUCK SCION

What we were told was absolute bullshit, they allowed everyone and there mother to RSVP in order to ensure they had a sellout crowd, and then proceeded to turn away 80 percent of the people who showed up because they were incredibly overbooked for the event.....so how did I manage to attend?.....

Well, I will get to that in a second. After we were rudely turned away from the Houston Girl Talk show - which involved a rent-a-cop mouthing off after I said "why the fuck would they do this?" referring to Scion's email where they clearly stated they would stop accepting online RSVPS when capacity was met - something they clearly did not even attempt to abide by - the cop responded by telling me "hey I am trying to help you and you curse at me?" apparently he did not understand the tenets of grammar whereby the word "they" implies a plural and thereby can not possibly be sanely interpreted as meaning "you" which by nature implies a singular entity. Then he later remarked to a higher-up I was dealing with "I probably would have helped this guy out if he didn't curse at me" - what a douche. We ended up going to club where I had to slip the bouncer a 20 to let me in with my adidads lace-ups. By this time I was digging into my party favors with fervor and was VERY VERY excitable - there were no bitches of interest so we left, my friend ended up talking to some girl who did not take care of herself and looked as if she had not washed her hair in a week - and at some point i said to her face "BITCH NEED TO WASH YO HAIR" and then walked away. Ended up at bar called Tipsy Clover where i talked to two girls who worked in Rice University's athletic dept at 180 miles per minute and proceeded to incorrectly input their numbers into my iphone. At last call me and my buddy ended up at Treasures a very high class titty bar indulding in way too many dances and I proceeded to get a few numbers - went home at 430 am worried that at any second I would drive my car into a wall just for the rush of it. Went to bed at 6 woke up at 10 and went back to Treasured to watch football at 12 after popping a Rize 2 and conviently going commando in dress slacks - the experience was enjoyable to say the least.

So, by happenstance I ended up going to Dallas for business on Monday - and found that Girl Talk was playing at the Palladium in Dallas on Tuesday Night! SCORE! I got the tickets on ticketmaster this time - made to to the show without any favors - but ended up having some great tex-mex nearby and talking to bar tender to regaled me with stories of watching a high school aquaintence get busted by the DEA on the new hit show DEA. The show, in a nutshell was INSANE - one of the best parties of my life. The bitties were out in full force, the show was jamming - I danced so hard for 90 minutes straight i had to sit the last 30 minutes out - and this was after like 7 redbull and vodka's. What can I say I grinded up on bitties all night - had some highschoolers smoke me out before the security stepped in and watched multiple lesbians make out in front of me. I WAS IN HEAVEN!!!! One of the best shows I have ever attended. The next post will detail my Thanksgiving trip to Boston and, my call to the police upon arrival back in H-Town and the M. Jackson Tribute band I had the pleasure to experience at the House of Blues in Houston. Untile then PEACE OUT BITCHES!!!

OH - And here are some other photos from the event

2008-10-14T19:08:00.000-07:00

So lately I have had the good fortune of blurting out the most ridiculous statements at 70 decibels exactly as the entire restaurant/bar scene has quieted down. The most entertaining slash embarrassing of these statements has to be:

"My Robot Dick Has To Fuck Something"

This was yelled practically at the top of my lungs, as I was trying to scream over the delightfully intoxicating live piano performance of Girl from Ipanema at Sullivan's Steak House here in Houston. To give you some context I was referencing what my robot character would say when myself and the highschool gang went to the Renaissance Festival. Background necessary - my friend Blake Russler came up with the idea of going to the Renaissance festival (which is a HUGE deal in Texas, if you need a reference point i would find the wife swap episode where a well-to-do Indian woman is whisked away into a redneck household that likes to spend their weekends going to medieval times. These people throw a month long RenFest (our slang for this incredibly eye-opening experience) and take it VERY VERY SERIOUSLY - anywho my friend came up with the idea of going to RenFest in Robot costumes and the hilarity would insue. Thus my inappropriate or very appropriate comment.

On a side note, the same night I happened to be hitting on a thick but delightful waitress...we exchanged the usual pleasantries i recieved some complements in regard to my new raybans i bought with the cingular wireless rebate for purchasing the LG Mirror phone - which barely passes for a phone and definitely does not work as a mirror. She commented that she had similar ocular-shades and I told her to bring em out *T.I. Tone* - which she did and I admired for several minutes. At which point I decided it would be a good idea to slip my number into her Raybans case hoping she would discover this mischievous action the following day - or at least after I had left the bar- no such luck. I was presented with the check 30 minutes later with a note that read:

I'm Flattered, But I'm Gay.

Fabulous, naturally i signed the bill with a note that said "if you ever decide to sub-in for the other team to give me a call" i have been back to Sullivan's twice and have yet to see her - I can only assume that she she has read my blog and is desperately trying to separate Lohan and Ronson so she too can experience the trademark Ronson-Forearm

well - i feel this post has gone well - i plan on attending a free GirlTalk show on saturday with the unconditional support of my friends Lisa, Sally and Daphne

1st Post

2008-09-24T20:53:00.000-07:00

So here I am at Nanny's house home alone, the grand-misses is gone to Jacksone Hole for the week leaving me here to eat all her lean cuisine meals and indulge in her seemingly endless supply of painkillers.

-So I came up with my new comedy routine while watching Heroes. I realized that the japanese language is actually some kind of binary code that has been transformed into a national linguistic. Let me explain. We are all familiar with that awful sound that is the prerequisite to the blue screen of death, sometimes it starts in the hardrive, sometimes it begins in your dvd drive - but it usually sounds like - HMMMMMMMMM -TSK TSKTG TSK S TSTATAT _TATSTTSGAGAG_TTSKSKSKS

This sound is strikingly familiar to Japanese, and I firmly believe (in this whiskey + painkillers) induced state that when we were blowing on our original Nintendo cartridges we were repeating what we thought was the most effective way of getting our shit to work. Whereas the Japanese were actually whispering sweet nothings to their games in hushed sounds - don't believe me? Try whispering some staccato vowel sounds to your Bubble Bobble cartridge next time and end wth an aaAAAAHH and see if it don't work mo betta. I feel like I finally understand Anime as the animators are simply talking to computers and making the figures play out there most twisted giant cock in small va-jay-jay fantasies.

-On a side note, I am struggling here in Screwston, the traffic is akin to Samantha Ronson trying to fit her forearm inside of Lohan - it fucking hurts your soul - both to think about and to experience. I had my moment of Hell this last Tuesday - to give some background I spent Monday going over 100 miles round trip to measure a client's house because my ungrateful bitch of an assistant was afraid to leave her dog outside (she usually leaves the dog inside with ac, but the power was out so she couldn't take the risk - needless to say I am firing her ass within the next few weeks - and thats right even though i'm 24 and she saw the eagles on their debut tour I got that pow-ar. Anyway I spent Monday driving back between Nanny's and my friends place in Midtown because Nanny had a plumbing problem (allegedly my fault - allegedly) and the overflowing toilet required me to rip up the carpet and the padding - so after making 3 round trips back and forth and forth and forth, back and forth and forth and forth - i was out of gas. Decided to pick some up in the morning before work but the lines were longer than the tach-cock addicts' fuck list so I opted to pick up gas after my short stint at our wharehouse. After my early morning wharehouse session I make it into my second gas queue - the first featured too many Roseanne Barr look-a-likes drinking 40 0z diet sodas and taking forever to find there Shell Card. I am 5 cars back from the pump when I realize the station is cash only and I am stuck with credit. I call my boss and she meets me at the pump with 40 bones, after I worked out a deal with the entire line to let me keep my spot while I wait. I get the money, get ready to pour that sweet exhaustible resource into my car when I realize the fuel key to my locking gas cap is missing from my key chain. Now imagine this - you're sitting in line and proceed to watch the kid in front of you take out a pair of pliers and commence ripping his gas cap to shreds. This did not work well, I ended up spraying gas all over me and my car. The seemingly unremovable remnants of the gas cap which caused the petroleum fusilage were subsequently extracted by an O'Reillys autoparts worker 3 days later with a simple twisting motion - which was a great oh my fuck moment for me.

I have much more to talk about when I have time - but this is just a little insight into my current state of affairs - oh yeah - i saw N.E.R.D. live and it made me want to immediately end my close to 12 month hiatus from psychedelics.

-Hoping to travel to somewhere else than Dallas or Austin soon