rudeboyyouth

I'll be in attendance around 6 ish.

The show will wear thin very quickly, especially if all that Bam does is fuck with his father. The audience can very easily tell that his father doesn't really give a fuck about what he's doing, probably since he's being reimbursed for everything that Bam does. Jackass is good, but a show dealing specifically with Bam and his father is retarded. Hopefully, Bam changes up alot of the shit that he does.

I agree. As stated in my original post, I don't think that JP deserves to lose his residency to anyone. His dedication to his crowd as well as house music has earned him the spot that is now his. I'd never want to see anything fuck up the party that Factory now has on Saturday. In light of the current state of NYC nightlife, SF is the only place I even care to go to. My post was just a useless question that has no significance beyond this messageboard.

Bbooom, That's not necessarily true. With respect to a non-English major using English in his / her major, I know many accounting and finance majors who took one or two english classes, but never really got the hang of writing a decent paper. As a result, they either failed or seriously fucked up in other courses that required decent writing ability. When I first started college as an accounting major, I remember thinking that I really didn't have to give a shit about English classes, and that once I got into the field, I wouldn't really be using English. I couldn't have been more wrong. Yes, there are many useless classes that colleges make students take, but I definitely don't think that English is one of them. English may not relate directly to the subject matter of many majors, but it is definitely necessary for most majors. There are so many business students who graduate college and are unable to write a decent paper. That shit always comes back to haunt you at some point. In my junior year, I remember working in the writing center of the English Department of my school, and the majority of people who came to us for help with their papers were junior and senior business, science, or psychology majors who wound up taking some philosophy, history, political science, or English class they didn't want to take. The papers they were required to write weren't really difficult at all, and for the most part many of the students had no problem coming up with ideas and layouts for their papers; they just didn't know how to write well. I couldn't believe how many of them made it so far in college with writing that was so bad. I mean, I'm no fucking Ralph Waldo Emerson, but a senior business student should be able to write a good paper. I mean, they're all going to graduate eventually, and will have to go on job interviews, take part in meetings, or write letters / memos at some point. I think writing helps to make them better at all that shit. Even though I may hate certain classes, I don't think majors should be thought of as isolated, unrelated areas of study (I'm not saying that you said that, I'm just making a point). I'm glad I was required to take alot of the courses I didn't want to take, and looking back on the entire experience, I probably got more out of college because I was required to take alot of those courses. Of course, there were still those courses that were absolutely useless. Also, I don't think that non-english majors should be required to take more English classes than they're already required to take, but I do know, from personal experience, that the introductory writing classes that many students are required to take don't really do all that much for their writing.

This is a toughy. I mean, overall, American men are pretty tough, but English men are also pretty brutal. England has a longer history of brutality and violence, and when America was first colonized by the English, they brought alot of that brutal nature with them, lol. Physically speaking, many English men aren't as fit as many American men, but that really doesn't mean shit. I've seen alot of puny Brits rip the shit out of people twice their size. Alot of English men have a sick fuckin temper.

I did horribly on my midterms this semester. My head just isn't into school this semester, and I've had a bunch of non-academic shit to worry about and sort out. I need to get my shit together. I'm so fuckin sick of school.

I'm sure many people will be dressed up in costumes if they go to parties on either Thursday or Saturday.

Some majors require more English classes than others, but every major usually requires you to take at least two introductory English classes (equivalent to "english 101 & 102"). Both classes are writing classes, but the second one usually deals more with actual literature from different periods. As for Math majors not needing English and vice versa, I've never heard of that. As an English major, I was required to take math courses, and I know for a fact that math majors are required to take English courses. I don't know of any college in this country that doesn't require math majors to take English classes. I only graduated in 2002, so I doubt things are that much different.

Try Roxy on Saturday night / Sunday morning - music is great. Also, if your friend is into afterhours, check out Discoteque on Sunday, November 2nd. Junior will be doing afterhours.

I haven't been able to remember the name of this song, and it's starting to piss me off. Song begins with a heavy beat, then a deep male voice says: "Together we witness one of the most delightful in our times, so umm...................Let The Bass Go." The beat then continues, but much heavier and nastier. I love this song.

I never claimed that Junior's original factory and the factory of today were even "remotely" similar, which is probably why I made a point of saying that both the LOCATION and the CROWD of the original factory have changed. I guess I should have also added that the latter followed Junior all the way to Juniorverse and beyond. When I referred to Factory as the club that Junior started, I was referring to the name of the club, and how good I think it would be to see / hear junior spin at the spot that now assumes the name "Sound Factory" (same name as spot started by Junior). I never said that Junior started "today's" Factory.

eh......rumors

Did anyone actually see Brwneyed's scene? Was it a good one? Good facial?

Satan, How did you discover that this individual banged farthammer? Was it actually on the site or something?

Junior spin at Sound Factory for one Saturday night / Sunday morning? JP has been very loyal to his fans, has continued to cater to the true afterhours factory heads, and continues to spin house music that I enjoy dancing to. Overall, he's kept alive a vibe that has been dying all too quickly in Manhattan, and I sincerely hope his residency at Factory never ends. However, just one night of Junior in that place would be a rare treat. Junior's original SF was before my time. I used to frequent Juniorverse alot, but I would imagine it wasn't the same as the original factory. Even though the location and crowd of the original SF has changed, I'd still love to hear Junior spin in the nightclub that he started.

The Friday night party at SF was actually pretty good at one point; musically, it was far better than the old Fridays at Exit. Draper wasn't nearly as good as A-Luv and Lodi were. I will definitely be in attendance for the upcoming Halloween Party. I've never been dissapointed with the Halloween party at SF, and I hope the place stays open very late, allowing for a re-opening of the bar around noon or 1 ish.

I loved "What's Happening." Rerun will be missed. I would've loved to battle him on the dancefloor. He had some good moves.

I'm partial to Samuel Adams (Cherry Wheat) on certain nights, and on other nights I prefer Michelob Ultra Light.

Rhythm is a Dancer

I will definitely have to hit that shit up.

I heard that Wrestlemania is being held at MSG this year. The last time I went to see a WWF event at MSG was back in 1986, when my father took me to see Saturday Night's Main Event. I remember the main fight was Billy Jack Hanes v. Don Muracco, and some of the undercards were Paul Orndorf v. Nikolai Volkoff, Seika v. Corporal Kerscher, and Iron Mike Sharp v. Mario Mancini. Back in the day, the WWF matches at MSG seemed so dimly lit on television - so dim that it almost seemed as if only the front row was filled. The dim lighting used to make the arena look really small, as if it were the size of a gymnasium. It wasn't until I actually went there that I realized how huge the place was, and that the reason why it seemed so small and dim was because the only bright light in the arena hung directly over the ring. Everything else was in darkness.

I'm not sure whether the NYU students who committed suicide did so out of academic frustration, but I do know a couple of students who, despite their confident dipositions, are very deeply affected by their performance in school. I guess many students are affected by their academic performance on some level; I mean, I've never really met anyone who didn't give a fuck whether they passed or not. For some, however, it's just a very overcoming thing that stresses the shit out of them. I went to Hofstra for undergrad (hardly an ivy-league / top tier school), and I knew a girl who wound up committing suicide a year after I graduated. She was the daughter of a fairly prominent NY real estate attorney, and on the few occasions that we met, she seemed very focussed on and confident in what she was achieving. However, after finding out that she'd have to stay back a semester in order to finish some classes, she wrote her parents a note, went into her garage, started the car, and inhaled carbon monoxide until she was dead. School gets me down sometimes, and although I've never contemplated suicide, I could definitely understand how fucking up or not being able to graduate could seem like the end of the world to some, especially in an economy where people are moving on with their lives and making great money at a younger age. I guess sometimes they forget that their entire lives are ahead of them, and that, despite how stressful college may seem, it's really just the tip of the ice-berg. It's hard to see the bigger picture when all the shit around you seems so overbearing. I give alot of credit to students who can perform well under heavy academic stress and still remain focussed on their ultimate goal. I know that when I'm fucking up during the semester, I feel like there's no point to anything.

I used to go out dolo quite a bit, but after nearly killing myself in a car accident on the way home from Factory one morning, I decided that, from now on, I'd at least take one or two people with me in case I'm too fucked up to drive home. In 2000 (a few weeks before the S&M party at Factory), I was partying with a few friends, having a few drinks, and basically getting myself amphed to go out and dance my ass off. By the time we all decided to go home, everyone was tired, and no one even considered the idea of heading to Factory. I went home, smoked a blunt, drank a few more beers, and, around 2:30 a.m., decided to head out to Factory. I was already pretty fucked up, and probably shouldn't have been driving, but stupidity overcame me and I decided to head out. I wound up getting into Factory pretty early (around 3:15 a.m.), and there were only a few heads chilling in there. I didn't even give a fuck for some reason. I felt pretty fucked up, and just wanted to go chill, drink, and hear some good music. I wound up doing about 6 or 7 shots of whisky before the bar closed out, and I was totally done - so done that I started falling out in the basement. I didn't stay long. I was already drunk, couldn't keep my head up, and just wanted to pass out. Around 5:30 or so, I decided to head back home, so I left Factory, hopped in a cab, and headed over to the parking garage to pick up my car. As soon as the cab pulled up, I just opened the door and started puking all over the sidewalk. The cabby was pretty pissed, and started yelling, "No, you cannot do that shit in my cab man. C'mon, geddoutuvheer!!" I heard him, but couldn't pick my head up; I just had to get everything out. After that shit ended, I (literally) staggered to my car, gave the guy the ticket, paid him, got into my car, and drove off. I knew I shouldn't have been driving (I couldn't even fuckin walk), but I went through the whole "I'm tired, I feel like sleeping, and I should get home because I want to pass out in my bed" self-rationalization. Ignorantly enough, I decided to head home. There have been times in the past where I have driven home pretty buzzed, but I was able to straighten up and control myself. I was never to the point where I was literally passing out behind the wheel. I made it out of the city ok, but, by the time I got into the midtown tunnel, the sleepiness just overcame me. Right before getting out of the tunnel (on to the LIE), I fell asleep. My car swerved a bit, and my driver's side rear view mirror smacked into one of the little poles that divides the lanes in the tunnel. The smack woke me up, and I was able to gain control of the car, but my mirror was just dangling at that point. Like an asshole, I figure, "ok, I can stay awake now." I paid the toll, got on the LIE, and drove for about a mile before falling asleep again. I must've been asleep for about 30 seconds, because when I woke up again I was still in the same lane, doing about 95 mph; the only difference, however, was that I was heading straight towards a mini-van that was doing about 40 - 45 mph. I wasn't able to react in time, and just plowed right into the van, sending it flying forward a few feet. The actual impact happened so suddenly and quickly that it felt like a dream. I didn't even feel like it was really happening. Also, the impact didn't feel like it was so hard - it felt like I just bounced off the van after hitting it. I knew shit was pretty serious when smoke and steam started spewing from the front of my car. I get out of my car, and while getting out, I realize that my knee is shredded up and totally covered in blood. It wasn't broken, but really badly cut up. It was also wedged between the crumpled door and the lower left hand side of the dashboard. I un-wedged it (not even feeling any real pain because I'm basically numb at this point), and walked around to the front of my car. What I saw was pretty scary: the entire front of the car on the driver's side was basically smushed all the way up to the windshield, and the windshield was broken in on the top. I felt as if my face was really wet, as if I'd been sweating, so I walked over to the passenger side rear-view mirror, looked at my face, and realized that my forehead was leaking blood, and that there was a very small piece of glass wedged not too deeply in my forehead. I pulled the small piece out, walked over to the driver's side of my car, and noticed a humungous Japanese guy getting out from the van that I hit. He started walking over to me very calmly, and he asked me if "I was ok." Suddenly, he decked me right in the face. I fell down, got back up, and just looked at him. I didn't even try to hit the guy back. Part of it was because I was scared shitless, another part of it was because I felt bad for plowing into him, but a big part of it had to do with fear of getting stomped out in the condition I was in. Even I were sober, the guy would've destroyed me. He looked like a jacked version of Bolo Yeung (the guy Van Damme fought at the end of "BloodSport"). I apologized to him, walked over to his van, and noticed that his wife, daughter, and mother were all sitting in the van, looking at me in shock. The daughter came out, started asking if I was drunk, and told me that she was getting her insurance information. Bolo started to phone the police, and at that point I realized that, in a matter of minutes, I was going to be fucked up the ass without a condom. So, like a truly drunken fuckin idiot, I said to Bolo, "I'm going to go get my insurance information," and once I got to my car, I got into it, slammed the door shut, started it up, and took off. I got about 40 or 50 feet before my car died, so I pulled over on to the side of the highway. The guy pulled up in his van, ran up to me, and belted me right in the face again. I fell to the ground, got up, and just hoped he wouldn't hit me again (which he didn't). He kept asking me, "Why the fuck you trying to take off? You hit my family and then try to take off, you asshole!!" I cops were already on their way, so I decided to start looking for my insurance and registration. I was unable to find my insurance card, and by the time the police arrived I was only able to produce my registration. As soon as the cops pull up, the Japanese guy started telling them how I tried to take off after hitting them. I realized that, at this point, I was pretty much fucked up the ass, so the only thing I could think of telling the cop was, "He punched me in the face.......twice!" The two cops were women, both of whom were very beautiful. While one cop was tending to Bolo, the other one came up to me, pulled me aside, and asked, "What happened?" At this point, I don't know how I was even able to answer the cop. I was pretty scared, and realized that the truth would only get me into a shitload of trouble, so I lied. I told the cop that I was driving in the middle lane, and that the van pulled up behind me, flashing its lights and riding my ass. I then said that the van pulled around, cut directly in front of me, and slowed down, causing me to collide into the back of it. The cop then looked at me and asked, "Have you had anything to drink tonight?" I said, "Yeh, I had one or two beers." She then said, "Yeh, I can smell it on you." At that point, the other cop came over and started talking to her partner. After about five minutes, one of them came over to me and said the following: "They (Bolo and his family) said that you tried to take off after you hit them. Is that true?" I don't know how I thought of this answer, but I said, "No, I didn't try to take off. He pulled in front of me, I was unable to avoid him, so I hit him, then he swerved off to the side. My car was still going at that point, so I pulled over, and at that time he was already behind me. I wasn't trying to take off, I just pulled over after hitting him. Then, a minute later, he gets out of his car, runs over to me, and hits me in the face." The cop looked at me and said, "listen, neither of us see any marks on your face that indicate you were punched. He's claiming that you tried to take off, and you're claiming that you were punched. Each of you are denying the other's story, so we can't prove either of them. If you want to press charges for him punching you, you will have to come down to the station, and you will be given a breath test. What I am going to do is simply put down his version of the facts (only with respect to the actual accident) and your version on the accident report, and you guys can let the insurance deal with it." I then said, "ok." I couldn't really understand why the cop was being so lenient. A little while later, the tow truck arrived to take my car out of there. I overheard the driver talking to the cops. He then came over to me and said, "Dude, it's obvious it's their fault. There's no fuckin way someone could plow into someone that hard without the other driver cutting in front of him." The cops overheard this and didn't say anything; in fact, they almost seemed to be agreeing with him. The cops wrote up the report as well as a summons because I was driving without valid insurance. I then hitched a ride home with the tow truck driver, got raped on the towing fee, and passed out in bed. I woke up the next morning with cuts all over my arms, legs, neck, chest, stomach, wrists, and forehead. My left pant leg was wet with blood, and was sticking to my cuts. When I took my pants off and looked at my knee, I was in shock. I couldn't believe how much it had bled while I was sleeping. I was surprised I was still conscious. I got out of bed, hopped in my brother's car, and drove to LIJ, where I was bandaged up, given some pain killers, and sent on my way. My life after this whole event was pretty much fucked. My car was totalled, I had no money to get a new car, and I wound up having to take the bus from L.I. into Queens everyday for work and school. This went on for about 6 months until I finally stumbled on a nice 2000 Altima, which proved to be better than the car I wrecked. It could have been much worse, however. I remember thinking of the way I felt when I was about to hit the van. Everything was just silent, and I felt so powerless. I couldnt' even believe it. I kept looking at myself and realizing how easy it is to fuck yourself up as a human. I mean, you're only skin and bone, and when you get behind the wheel of car, sometimes you (not YOU, but you know) sometimes forget that. I remember thinking how lucky I was that no one in Bolo's family was seriously injured. I would've been fucked. There was some considerable damage to his van, and as far as I knew, the troubles ended there. I felt like I was obligated to call his family and apologize, but for some reason I didn't. I didn't want to call and apologize, because I lied to the cops right in front of them, so what could I possibly say to them after that? I wasn't about to admit fault and have that shit used against me in the event of future litigation. About 5 or 6 months later, I arrive home, and this nicely dressed man comes up to me and serves me some papers. I open the package and read the contents. The papers were notice of a suit that the family was bringing against me for negligence. Apparently, the mother suffered neck and spine injuries, some of which seemed a little far fetched, but then again, I did hit them pretty hard. They were suing for 2 million dollars (medical expenses, lost earnings, loss of future wages, pain and suffering, etc). I wasn't even surprised. I would've done the same thing. I mean, I plowed into a man and his fucking family, and pretty much got off with nothing more than a few cuts and bruises. I would be pretty pissed if I was plowed into by some drunk punk kid, and then lied to right in front of two police officers who didn't even seem to believe my story. I mean, the guy did punch me, and I think that was wrong, but it was more than justified. I'm glad, and am actually surprised, that he didn't do worse. I was really scared that the family was going to allege that I was drinking, but none of those facts were in the accident report, so they couldn't allege non-existent facts. The lawyers for my insurance company handled the lawsuit. The family got some cash, but not much (I wasn't told exactly how much they got). I haven't spoken to the family since. This is pretty much why I don't go out by myself anymore. I always drink when I go out, and sometimes I do the most ignorant shit. I just need to know that I can be driven home by someone who is sober. If I do go out alone once in a while, however, I just take the train in. I don't even think about taking my car out for clubbing ventures in Manhattan anymore. I just thank God that I'm not dead, and that I was lucky enough to not have to kill someone or be killed before learning my lesson. I don't know what I would've done if I killed someone in that van.

Grad school does fuckin suck. I should have been doing the same last night, but instead I decided to go out for a bit. I pulled an all-dayer during the daytime, so I didn't feel too bad about it. I'm not much of a night-worker, and I like to at least try to get the majority of my shit done during the day (on the weekend). However, because of my failure to put in the extra hours last night, my week will be a little more hectic, especially since I'm shot today, and feel like doing absolutely nothing but vegetating.

Usually you're supposed to hear a faint sound of the music from the needle. Sounds pretty normal.