A Beatdown Grows In Internetland
A whole week and a bit without posting, but nary a holiday in sight. I have been alternately drinking and entranced by this new pet Mrs. Cutesome got me. Is it incredibly important to have digitsed episodes of both seasons of the Young Ones at my beck and call 24 hours a day? You betcha.
Because, really, I haven't had any amazing experiences this week - have been nowhere near a movie theatre or a live music venue. If you require a half-baked attempt at cultural criticism, may I suggest you amble over to Sugarzine where I can be found discussing a Liars gig like a confused old person.
Beer'll do that to you, and to be honest it's making me summer a very strange and frazzled place to hang out. The weather just sort of demands you hunker down somewhere shady and cool and drink alcohol. I may have to rediscover the old shandy. Yesterday was huge suspicious-looking sausages and some really rather mighty steak at the Mighty Luz.
So is it time to detox? Yes. Yes. Yes. But. Union Hall opens today. At 6. I need to test it for a party. Ho. Hum.
This next observation was going to be the point of the post, but I've got to get a hustle on to go to brunch. So Ill put it like this. If Gothamist caan't get through a post without resorting to sh*t "A [f***ing witless analogy] grows in Brooklyn" line, what hope is there for tthe less enlightened out there? Bad, Gothamist, bad!