A trip down memory lane.

Whenever I see or hear certain things they at times jolt my memory and take me back to where I was when I first came across whatever it may be. Music is one of those things. In my boredom I decided to compile some of those bands,songs,etc.



Freshmen year of high school was something. Dorky, pegged pants, punker vest with patches and spikes/studs are some key descriptions for a 14 year old me. During this time I made friends with some people in my english class who were pretty into metal. We had a small corner in the back of the class, always.Before the ipod, we had this thing called a compact disc player. wild, right? You will probably find them on Antique Roadshow soon. Anyways, we would constantly be trading our cds with one another and that is how I came across this song. This band was one of those bands that me and the metal heads could agree on. We would spend class after class trading out different mix cds of their stuff. Also in our mix was Andrew Dice Clay bits and Slayer. Side note- I never read an entire book for class this year or most of high school and I never got less than a B in english. That is my version of bragging.




I'll keep this one short. I was 12 around the time I first heard this. That night I and a few friends ate a ton of junk food and lit a mini scarecrow on fire, acting as if the lighter fluid was our urine. Flash forward to present day;I still eat junk food and I still find pissing on scarecrows funny.



I was watching the movie Gross Point Blank a few years after it actually came out and this song popped on during the scene where Cusack's character was watching his former love play records as the town's local radio dj. Its funny how I can remember things like this and always forget where I put my keys. If you haven't seen this movie or heard the clash, you need to re-evaluate your life. Alright, I'm only half serious.



It was around 3rd grade when I first heard these guys, specifically this song. I was with my dad on a job site where I would sometimes do sweeping here and there or just stay out of his way pretty much. He would pay me 5 bucks and buy me lunch, so I was living the dream as an 8 year old. It was also around this time where I tried chewing tobacco for the first and last time. I bugged my uncle/dad's foreman so much about it that to teach me a lesson he gave me a bit and I immediately spat the shit out. Couldn't hack it with the dipping I guess.

The little things in life....

I often hear or read things that make me laugh. They may seem ridiculous to most and often times they are pretty ridiculous, but none the less I find them worthy of remembering. Thanks to the technology of the cell phone I am able to type down some of these very things when an old fashioned pen and pad are not handy.I often remember said quotes and such and start laughing even though I am walking by myself in a public place, thus probably looking like a lunatic to those passing by.

"Wabbles, thats the way fat chicks run".(A direct quote).

"I've never known a woman to swallow and get pregnant until I met your mother".(Liquor was involved in this quote).

"Republicans vote voldermort,"(bumper sticker).

"Mean people suck. Nice people swallow,"(bumper sticker).

"2 dicks. 2 clits. whats up?",( a quote from a certain Ronan).

"You come in looking for a job, but you're wearing shorts and jap flaps? give me a break"( a non pc direct quote.If you find it offensive,I dont blame you).

The web...

As of recent, I have spent some time talking with a friend about the city we happen to live in and how sometimes you can't escape "the web" that seems to connect everybodys business together. You turn a corner and some how someone knows something about another person thru something that can relate back to you.People often prove how small a city can really be. Just give me what I want and cut the shit.Sound selfish? Of course it does. If only it were that simple though. But, yet again, such is life..

Noise Complaints....

My band played another show last night. We made noise come out of speakers. Some liked it and i`m sure there were plenty who didn't. Oh well. I do enjoy it either way. Plus, Mom and sis tapped the rockies while in attendance, so its all good. I feel more comfortable yelling like an idiot in a garage then i do talking in a class or talking to a girl. Does this mean something? I'm sure it does and I have a few ideas what it could be. Am I ready to dig up and examine those bones? Eh, perhaps another time. I'll keep them to myself for now, much like plenty of other thoughts that cross my mind like a busy freeway.

Another pet peeve crossed my mind today while at my job-

Parents who bring their children into public places and don't pay any mind to them:

We've all seen this occurrence. They have a class or a "parents" meeting to attend and they decided to let their snot face little brats run wild while they sit and forget about their existence for a brief moment. Trust me, I couldn't blame them but when it starts putting myself in a position where I have to play babysitter, no thanks. Maybe I need to gain patience, but sometimes I wouldn't be saddened if a snake or a rabies infested raccoon got a piece of their demon spawn. Not to kill them, I'm not some freak, but to only cause them to have to interrupt their sorry excuse for a guardian's mind vacation and thus resulting in them having to step up and do something.

In conclusion, if you don't plan on keeping an eye on your kid when you leave the house, I have a couple alternatives.
1. Stay in the fucking house.
2. Shoot yourself in the dick.
3. Get your tubes tied.

Thank you..

I've got a pet, his name is peeves....

I've got enough complaints, and to many they are about the most mundane things. Perhaps they are right, but the funny thing about the world wide web and the first amendment that we sometimes get away with using is that I can say whatever I please.

Here are some pet peeves of mine, maybe you can relate...

1. People who will get involved in a conversation of sorts, especially via text, with you and then take forever to respond( if they ever do).
Maybe a text or two or so will be shot back and forth but then it suddenly seems like they forgot how to put their phalanges to the buttons. The funny thing is, and this is where the pet peeve comes in, is that they all of a sudden had plenty of time or figured out how to use said phalanges to post on various social networking sites but couldn't respond to a question or finish a convo. Very interesting and quite annoying..

2. Drunks who feel the need to let you know how drunk they are.
They stumble and fall. Stumble and fall. Rant and rave a bit too loud tossing proper annunciation to the wind and yet still let you know how drunk they are. You know what this reminds me of? The stereotypical high school girl who got drunk off 2 zimas and a mikes hard lemonade and ended up being the rails for a train that was ran by the entire football team or the guys who wish they were "The Situation".

3. CHP.
I'm convinced that their only job is to ruin your day. Add parking enforcement to this one too. Notice that they only write tickets and it seems the sunnier and more beautiful it is outside the more likely these civil servants are there to shit on your sunshine or at least attempt to take a squat.

Goodness, Gracious, Great Ball of Panties!!!

It was a cool spring evening at a downtown Sacramento corner coffee shop. Its established about 100 feet from a friends apartment, so I went to get a cup of coffee while I wait for responses for the what the plan would be for the night. First off, the coffee is alright but the wait almost isn't worth it at times. Give me a cup, fill it with coffee, and we are all happy campers. I take a seat at the bar seating area that has one long window right in front of it so you can look out at the world and they can do the same. It's a double sided zoo exhibition.
I dive into the book I was currently reading when I see a homeless woman stumble across the street and start digging thru the trash, all the while having a conversation with no one but herself. She takes some pizza and lays it on the table that happens to be right in front of where I am sitting just on the other side of the glass. I didn't look up. As I feel her stare, she begins to pound on the glass. I stay hidden in the pages with words on them. She pounds again. Finally, she begins to walk off, but only to coming walking back a second later. She heads for the door of the coffee shop. I knew who she was coming to talk to. I still keep staring at the book in front of me, but her presence is unavoidable, especially when she came right up next to me and makes an attempt at speaking. I couldn't make out anything but something about the Catholic rule and some one some one the third. Any idea what she was getting at? Your guess is as good as mine. She then reaches into her pocket, so I start to ease out of my chair, thinking it could be a weapon of some sort. What she pulled out topped any knife or shank. She pulls her hand out and in her grasp is a ball of panties! Not the pretty/ sexy laced kind, just plane old britches. She proceeds to slam them onto the table and this is when I proceed to remove myself from my chair and give the guy at the counter the look like,"wanna get her out of here or is it going to get weird?"
She then leaves, taking her ball of panties with her. Was she the one that got away? If there is a god, I sure as hell hope not.

Human interaction: Lost art or just lost on some?

I've come to the realization that certain basic human interactions are, for some reason, a sort of tangled web of confusion I always find myself in. I'm no mind reader and very few people are( lets face it, mrs. Cleo was full of shit), but trying to read people through certain actions, gestures,etc. is going over my head more and more. I start to think I grasp or see things as one way and then in a second it all feels flipped and spun around. Advice helps but at the same time it doesn't when you do not know which way to go with it. Confidence/mental issues? perhaps, but I'm working on it. Its a process. Such is life;one big process. Now, for some tunes...

Curse of the sober driver...

Heres something I wrote for a creative writing class I'm taking.:

It's a little after 9:00 pm and the stars out over what almost seems like a ghost town. One of the only remaining business's that is left open at this point in the night is the local watering hole. After he gets done tripping his way over the many cracks in the sidewalk, he soon walks his way through the cloud of smoke into the dimly lit establishment, what some might call a dive. Here, a well stocked bar will be found with an array of drinks that will no doubt lend itself to the mistakes that, for many, will be realized the morning after. For the sober patron, a not so extensive set of choices is made available. A juice or Roy Rogers strike your fancy? Ordering either makes him the minority in this particular place filled with with the young and old, the casual drinker as well as the depressing mess getting their fill as if prohibition was about to be kicked started once again. The occasional biker also finds his way into the crowd.
This particular person will be subjected to the ramblings and nonsense that will find its way from the juke box, which is blasting everything from the great Bob Dylan to the questionable works Lady Gaga, to the billiard tables and back to his bar stool. With sobriety and half a conscience, he finds himself in the worst place. As he decides to sit back with his sarcastic point of view, he slowly comes to terms with the curse of the sober driver.

Mom vs. the WWII vet.....

As a child, my upbringing was far from terrible. Had a good home, good parents, and all that warm/fuzzy stuff. I did have certain complaints though. Growing up, around ages 7-10 or so, I used to go on little fishing trips with my grandfather. Nothing crazy, it wasn't something we'd get asked to do some discovery channel show about. We stuck to local lakes. As part of our supplies, gramps would make sandwiches to take along as many hours of sitting & watching a fishing pole make about as many movements as snookie makes positive contributions to our society were ahead of us and a hunger would be worked up. These weren't any ordinary sandwiches, they were peanut butter and butter sandwiches. I ate them, crust and all. Making a "no thanks" face and a shake of the head side to side was never an option in my mind and for good reason.
A little back round on the kind of guy gramps was. Born and raised in the late 20's/30s on farmland in Oklahoma, so right out the gate he wasn't going to be a how you say, Oprah or American Idol type audience member. He then went into the military and was one of the first soldiers to step foot on Guadalcanal. He took bullets and chunks of metal and I'm going to take a guess he did a lot more than that. So, that should make it easier to understand a little of how he might have been.
I soon started to notice after these trips that I was getting these same paper bagged bullshit bombs packed daily for school. I never said anything until years later, but immediately after opening I would give them a half ass toss into the middle of the road to watch on coming cars run straight over them. For whatever reason, I gained some sort of satisfaction out of doing so. I asked later on, "Why would you think those would even be a good idea?" My mom responded, "Your grandfather said you loved them, so I went with it." He caught metal in his flesh, probably got a bit of that gang green that would go around and saw blood fly like water out of a sprinkler on a hot summer's day. Now, I'm not saying my mom doesn't work hard or isn't someone who shouldn't be appreciated, that's not it at all. I'm just saying, when compared to the intimidating "gang green and catching bullets with his shin guy", I have no problem rebelling against her pb&b sandwiches....

Dear Sees....

I want to discuss an annoyance of mine that I have been sitting on for awhile. Sees candy boxes. You open them and you truly have no fucking clue what you are going to get(I just referenced my least favorite tom hanks movie, I should call it quits).I buy candy for a reason, to know exactly what I am going to get. I buy twix because I enjoy twix. The cookie crunch and milk chocolate. You buy a box of Sees and its like trying to pick the blue wire or the red wire. If you cant stand coconut or almonds and you pick the blue wire, BOOM! You're instantly spitting the remains of the mistake into the nearest garbage can. I want to see a map of the chocolates in each box, something that resembles a most wanted list. It should come with a picture and whats in it. Would it be all that difficult to do Sees? Every time someone offers me a selection from a Sees candy box, I sometimes let my guard down for a second, but then remember how all too often I pick the blue wire. If you are reading this and think "what a waste of time that was", then remember this- you read it, not me...

Playlists comes in all shapes and sizes...

Listen to the lyrics and if you know what she was going through at the time, it hits you like a ton of bricks



Although this is from "Ill Blood", "Suffer Survive" is the on going debate..




This band may not have the breakdowns and speedy riffs, but damn they put out some great/weird jams. Love it.


I'll admit, my knowledge of hip hop is not as extensive as a lot of my friends, but its safe to say this is one of greatest hip hop records ever made. Lil' Wayne, listen to this and then just give up.


If you have ever had the pleasure of catching him live you know he brings it. Powerhouse would be a good way to describe a typical Chuck Ragan performance.


It's impossible to listen to this and sit still. Once saw the singer dave byrd call out a group of folks telling them to bring bats and chains because they were going to need them,haha. Probably my favorite moment from that "last show" weekend of 08?..

Aiprort Banter

Over new years weekend I made my way down to Los Angeles and chose the convenience of the airplane as my means for getting to my destination. First stop, Sacramento Airport. Bags were packed and I thought everything was good to go. But, do you know what the biggest mistake for people when it comes to air travel is? It's not "accidentally" forgetting you packed a buck knife or accidentally forgetting you had shampoo that was larger than 3 oz. It's forgetting to bring headphones to block out surrounding chatter. Trust me, on a holiday weekend in a crowded airport nothing blocks out general population discussions like "Piece by Piece" by Slayer. Sometimes I'll just put the headphones on, no i-pod. Just let the chord dangle. No one is going to want to sit next to the crazy asshole with headphones plugged into nothing, right?
Well, while burying myself in the next best thing, a book, I hear the sound that could only resemble a horse getting excited about his oats.A huffy puffy sound makes it way around the corner and who is it? Its the living breathing mannequin from the vans store in the mall. Apparently ol' Huffy Puffy missed his flight by an entire day, but it wasn't his fault and boy was he letting his mother hear about it. Now, the airport is no saint, but a whole day and its not your fault? who are you fooling? The conversation went as follows:

(Huffy Puffy)-" Its bullshit. They told me my flight was actually yesterday and I had to pay $70 to switch to a flight that was today.
(Mother probably contemplates why she didn't have the father pullout on the sheets because one load of laundry is better than this)
(Huffy Puffy)-" I know. Well, I called them Jewish."

He called the front kiosk worker Jewish. That's fitting, right? I mean, the lady was simply punching in and doing her job and instead of getting to the airport on time he was out buying super skinny purple jeans. This is the world we live in, welcome! I don't stand for the use of slurs and stereotypes we all come across in this world, but if you were going to throwout stereotypical slurs who would be more fitting for the role that many think of when throwing out these stereotypes? The kiosk worker simply working her 9 to 5 shift or Huffy Puffy complaining about only having to pay $70 bucks for missing his flight by a whole day? Lesson of this, many still haven't gotten the hint that some one's religious backround isn't an insult( clearly a good ol' "Douchebag!" is a better zinger) and yet, it's these idiots that will keep on producing other little huffy puffys.

Ramble and ramble...

So,its been a little bit since i last wrote anything on here. Havent done the interviews, but have written random things here and there. I'm going to get around to posting some of it soon.I'm a lag ass, so i have ideas but ages will go by before i act on them, if I even end up doing so. Some of these could be funny to many, some of it could be funny to just me. Oh well, can't please everyone,right? Disagreement is what makes the world go round.Anyways, I`ve been trying to write more in general, whether it be short snippets, comedic points of view,or just thoughts on records,people, or life in general. Read it. Dont read it. No worries. No sleep will be lost either way.



Just got done reading this book. It was an interesting read. If you do not know who Joe Cole was he was a good friend of Henry Rollins and went on what would be the last black flag tour and first Rollins Band tour. Its Another perspective on being on tour with both bands and being a lost 20 something. A great excerpt from the book was this particular one:
"When she got up to take a shower her friend woke up and asked where Rollins went and i said i didnt know. She said there was some sticky stuff in her hair and she didn't know what it was,"-Joe Cole 4/25/86.
Must read to find out the rest of the story,haha.