Fifty.....

What a great past weekend in Cleveland. Now, for me to say that, it must have been great, seeing that I am the most qualified Cleveland hater there is at the present moment. It started with a birthday celebration for my friend Zuess. She turned 50 today and it is apparent.....read on....

I pick her up and the plan was a nice Italian dinner followed by Cold Stone Creamery for dessert. We are driving for a while, engrossed in conversation when she blurts out, "I think we passed it!!" So we turn around and head back, still can't find it. So Zuess thinks it's on the other block, so we cut over while she calls 5 different people to find the location, none of which are home because it's 7:30 on a Friday night and they are all out to dinner already. We cruise down the other street to no avail. I suggest 411, so Zuess makes the call only to find out the first road we were on is where this joint is located, we just didn't' go down far enough. Alas, at 8:02 we arrive to find a sign on the door that the place is closed. Great. So, we decide on a different Italian place, get there to find a 20-30 minute wait so we nix that idea and head for Cozumel for Mexican, well after 8pm at this point. Finally the food came and it was delish, I had forgotten how hungry and how long we had driven the burbs for this grub. This is what we have to look forward to when turning 50, forgetting where you favorite neighborhood Italian joint is in the burbs.

Upon exiting Cozumel I spy a midget wolfing down some fajitas. I can't help but text Silk to let her know that Dr. J is in the hizzie. Off to Handels we go for ice cream, I got bubble gum flavor and it was freggin awesome. Zuess and I sat to chat and eat when out of the corner of my eye I spy the same freggin midget from Cozumel heading up to the window for ice cream. At this point I'm shitting my pants and texting Silk again. I knew I had to touch him, so as he walked away with his ice cream I darted off the bench and sprinted toward him. I got so close, almost brushing against his shirt/arm. One midget, two locations, long live Dr. J!!!!!!

After coming down from my midget high I headed over to Salexis' place for her tribute to Michael Jackson dance party. Great time, lots of people, and lots of dancing through the night.

There was a cameo appearance by the late great King of Pop, yet he creeped everyone out, specially these ladies....
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Did anyone figure out who this guy was and get him out of that position?

Salexis, Piddy, Sean posing w/ Jacko.....



Saturday was another excellent day, Mifune played down at the market. If you have not seen this band yet, you are missing out. They are a tight ass afro/funky/latin-esque project with politically conscious lyrics. They will be at the Grog Shop sometime in July, check them out!!

While jamming out to Mifune I spotted a dread mullet, or a dreadlet. Now, this is a first for me so you can imagine my glee. I was squealing on the inside like a little kid. I crept up on it and snapped a couple of shots. Here I present to you, the best dreadlet pic I could capture.

The rest of my Saturday was spent painting and napping. That evening I hit up the Fig w/ Silk & Piddy and their friend from NM. Later I found my way to Touch for old school hip-hop night where I met up with Black Buddha and JJ. It was excellent, and there was quite a bit of Michael Jackson mixed into the night, perfect.

Sunday was brunch, more painting, a nice bike ride with a nice fella, laundry, and bed early. I'm looking forward to The Roots tomorrow night at HOB then five days off in a row!!!! Lots of jam nights/music are in store for my ass.

Peace out,
MJ

Charlie's Angel, King of Pop, Stroking.....WTF?

This has been an all together strange and shocking week. It started Tuesday with a mass meeting at work with the big bosses and HR to let the department know that they were turning over our reporting to the department of Psychiatry. Those who know me well, know that I work with a bunch of crazy ass, unprofessional, and incompetent people. And no, I'm not talking about the patients. Needless to say, I'm out. There is no way I'm working for those crazy fucks, and Hawaii is only a few months away. Woo Hoo.

Yesterday was a gathering of friends to remember Dr. J at The Harp. The waitress sucked and was in La La Land, she should have shared what she was taking with all of us. A nice time with great people nonetheless.

Today started out as any other Thursday, except for the fact that I have lost all investment in work, which is not a bad thing. Those people deserve to get fucked in the ass, and it's coming. So as I'm driving east on 90 heading out to bumfuck suburbia where they moved us back in January, a red sedan drives past me in the left lane. I usually don't bother to look over at other cars because I genrally don't give a fuck about other people that early in the morning, but this time I did. I glanced over to see a middle aged white male in the driver seat and what would appear to be his penis in hand, stroking it on the freeway. I am completely disgusted in what I think I just saw and began beeping the horn at him while yelling "you disgusting fuck!!" It was no use, he didn't notice me in his state of masturbatory zen while crusing at 70mph and rubbing one out. Again, horrified at what I had just seen, I had to pass him because he slowed down, my guess is that he was not really concentrating on driving, hence the inconsistency in his speed.

It was like a car wreck, I didn't want to look but I had to in order to verify what I thought I had just witnessed. It was true, a middle aged white male in a red four door sedan, cock in left hand, wheel in right hand, stroking his meat during the morning rush hour commute. This time he looked over at me with a creepy grin and I made sure I yelled "you nasty fuck!!" I don't think he cared and I was at my exit. I am indefinitely scarred and traumatized by this event. Men are disgusting fucking pigs.

On somber news, Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with rectal cancer this morning. A couple of years ago I put her on my celebrity death list but could not bring myself to do it this year. She was a fighter, R.I.P.


And even more shocking news, Michael Jackson a.k.a. Wacko Jacko bit it this afternoon. He was 50 and freakish. I'm going out on a limb here and saying his tox screen will reveal some kind of substances, perhaps some benzos or sleeping pills or both. Thriller was by far his best work. I will not lie and tell the blogging world I was moderately obsessed with MJ as a kid. I sported metalic socks in his honor, attempted to moonwalk down the steet and fell on my ass as my neighbor Shirley laughed at me, and had posters/stickers plastered on my bedroom walls and door. Yeah, I dug him until he started to look like Diana Ross. MJ, your long bizarre fall from the throne is over, R.I.P.....WTF????

Basement Bhangra

Saturday proved to be a less manic day for me. I headed up to the museum of art for the opening of the East Wing & some music...well, really just the music part. The first DJ sucked as he was way too loud and the majority of the crowd had their fingers in their ears. Everyone except the emo indie kids down in front dancing like they were on E, well they probably were, who am I kidding. The crowd was diverse, young and old, drunk as fuck, sober as fuck, boojie ass rich folks and everyone in between. I met up with J-Ho and Taj, initially just strolled around the grounds while waiting for the loud as fuck DJ to stop the music. Once DJ Rekha started spinning we found a spot kind of far from the stage.

A few songs in Taj spotted an opening on the wall so we headed over. Taj and I scaled the wall, but J-Ho's earlier attempt deterred her from trying again. Seems that once you are pregnant you lose all upper body strength......and energy.....which is replaced with crabby/bitchiness (I still love you J-Ho, you're the one that said you were crabby and bitchy upon arrival, don't hate)

Once on the wall I had a perfect view of DJ Rekha doing her thang on the wheels of steel, well her Macbook really.....

The crowd was huge, and definitely digging the vibe. There were super large creepy puppets with lights, no doubt leftover from Parade The Circle last week. Not to mention the strange lighted beings that popped out around 1am and stormed the grounds dancing and climbing on shit. It was all worth it, I had a great time.

Welcome back West Five Two, I vow to continue blogging through the summer.
Peace out,
MJ

Holy Mania

So drinking a pot of coffee at 7pm is never a good idea for me, but I did it anyway. The plan of the evening was to hang out at home, wait for random craigslisters to show up and buy my shit that I'm selling, and hope they are not serial killers, all the while washing the walls and baseboards in my kitchen. Well two of two non-serial killing craigslisters showed and I unloaded some household goods. At 8pm I decided to "touch up" the baseboards and some random spots on the walls. Next thing I know it's 11:30pm and I've repainted the all of the baseboards, trim, and three doors in my kitchen, as well as touched up some of the walls. It's 12:30am and I am still flying around the house as if on crack. What I should do is go back to the kitchen and touch up the cabinet (it really only needs a touch up, I swear) but I fear what will come if I continue in this state. Fuck it, sweat equity.

Someone better buy this god damn house so I can get out of this godforsaken city. I was sooo close to having it sold last week to a nice hippie lesbian couple. My neighbor sabotaged it by telling them of "a couple" recent attempted break ins. Fuckers, if I knew who said it I'd go staple their heads to the carpet. It's karmic retribution though, two years ago I talked a woman out of purchasing a home in the OC due to the high crime of that summer. To my defense, she was going to have her three year old grandchild w/ her quite a bit. I was looking out for the toddler. Anyway, okay, I get it, what goes around comes around, we're even. Now please universe align so I can leave quietly and never have to return.

Okay, more productive work, but not in the paint realm. Later.
MJ