Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Tis The Season For All Kinds Of Crap.




















I love seeing things like this. All the layers of paint and all of the graffiti that used to don the CTA walls. This portal is at the North/Clybourn stop on the Red line. For all you younguns, the city used to actually host and sponsor graff walls and pay for cans! This was less than 20 years ago...my how times have changed.




















I love work meetings and setting up the soup kitchen line for the staff. The way these guys attack free food, you would think we were all homeless.




















Worst license plate ever. You fucking douche. I bet you the owner of this car is actually some banker thats a "home chef."


























Stopped by the Powell brewing headquarter for a little soiree involving a ton of fucking beer and fellow brewers and geeks. This was pretty tasty for something that poured out like tar.


























This looks like a cover for The Great Gatsby. Tasty as hell.


























It's going to be a long fucking night.


























Tasty.


























Another hype beer. Boozey, but too sweet.


























Things are starting to get hazy.


























I'm lookin at the brat in the back for this one.


























It was drinking liquid raisins and chocolate in a bad way.


























There are 3 tap handles ready to fuck you up on top of the 60 high velocity beers always in the fridge.


























I don't remember much about this but the label may have given me nightmares or made me like balls.


























One of these always show up at these kinds of tastings. You realize how much emphasis and hype is built around a beer...until you try it. Don't get me wrong, its a tasty freaking beer but I wouldn't give my left nut like some of the beer assholes would to get one of these bottles. I'm just glad I live near the brewery.


























If all the beer wasn't enough, the random posse I was hangin with thought it was a good idea to check out the Longman and Eagle party happening at Quenchers Saloon. Apparently one of the owners is a hell of a frontman for a punk band. From this point on, all I know is that a lot more High Life and some brown colored shots were consumed. This is what a grown up punk band looks like, sweaters and collars.


























Woke up hungover as shitballs and worked a private party near my apartment. Best part of the day is having access to a garbage chute in the unit of the building. This must make drug dealers and murderers green with envy. Being able to immediately dump needles or body parts in case of a raid must be so liberating.




















I got to partake in an awesome group show at Chris Silva and Lauren Feece's gallery, Believe Inn in Bucktown.













































Some awesome stuff on the walls.


























Including this artist who assembled every single piece of paper to create these really intricate pieces that were mind blowing. I actually now own this piece and the awesome thing is that the other side of this is a happy face.


























That is insane. This artist must be the most patient person in the world. I need this kind of discipline. I'm so fucking impatient, I diarrhea all over shit.


























The pink matches my gonnorheaic vag.



























Here's Chris greeting patrons in his "formal" wear next to a literal bucket of art.





















Helped the homie Thoser paint a wall the next day for an automotive place near Grace and Kedzie. They wanted a tree and nature looking shit. Kinda my signature weed/cloud/broccoli/afro tree thing that I do.




















This looks more like an ad for green conscious toilet paper.


























The wall was luckily right next a tamale shop that is pretty well known in the city apparently. You know its popular because white people were walking in and out of this place all day. They know its safe once its been featured on TV or some kind of publication.


























It doesn't get any more straight forward than this.


























The tamales were the size of a fucking tree trunk but it was all masa. Opened the thing up and it was like a botched C-section. All kinds of skin colored masa with a sliver of american cheese filling and some veggies. I must have thrown out over 80 ears of corn with the three tamales I ordered. Flavor was decent though and it didn't make me shit my pants like I thought it would.


























The homie Ryan invited me out for a tasting at the Red Streak headquarter over in Roscoe Village. A nice dry cider brewed by the one and only Greg Hall previously of Goose Island.


























After some awkward conversation and drinking almost all of the Daisy Cutter in the fridge downstairs, I saw this in the bathroom. This is pretty bad ass. Good to know the Gorillaz had access to decent beer at one point during their tour.


























It's amazing how identical this looks to my scrotum. One shade lighter and it pretty much would be, except I imagine that my testes wouldn't be as juicy.




















After rubbing and scratching that tangerine for a few hours, I painted a piece in Hyde Park with the homies Thoser and Mega. Sparkles = trendy.


























Went to a wedding Friday night at the Newberry Library downtown which is an amazing archival library/venue for fancy shit...like weddings.




















I felt like one of Bruce Wayne's guest for a some kind of fundraiser here. Shit was mad classy until I said "shit is mad classy son."


























The only thing that can make this wedding even more baller is having John Simmons dj your party. This may have been one of the only weddings I've been to where literally the whole floor was dancing from start to finish. These Italians came to get their cannoli on.


























Partied so hard someones period dropped yo. Roc-A-Pad.




After the wedding, onwards to Sub T to meet up with long time friends The  Furious Styles Crew from Phoenix. They were in town for some gay dance battle. DJ Element from the crew got the wicked cuts down. Watching his fingers move like that would probably make some fat girls sweat with excitement.


























Haven't posted a picture of my nephew on here in a while. This little dude is heavy as fuck but a lot more energetic and playful. I'm gonna need to step my uncle game up. He's laughing at my hangover.


























So back at another wedding in Villa Park where Jesus shits out rainbows. I didn't know if this was a gay friendly church or a creepy disco, either way seeing Jesus fly with a rainbow was definitely a new one for me.






























Only one way to travel for white people...beer trolley. Songs were sung, terrible gas was passed, beer was spilled, asses were slapped and this was before we even hit the road. Brahim and I were the only minorities on this trolley. They could have killed us on here and no one would have noticed or cared. Thank god I knew the groom for over ten years.


























The Danada house which used to be an actual mansion is now a party hall and horse stable. I can't front, the venue was pretty classy and amazing. If I had to puke and pass out drunk anywhere in Illinois, this may be the place.


























This is where they used to keep the Mexicans that mowed the lawns.


























We got to choose the horse we wanted to eat for dinner.


























The patio for smokers and kids to fall over in.




















Yep, I fit right in.




















This was my 8th Miller Lite. Rocco has one of his hands in my pocket as well. Fucking perve.


























To fully capture Cinco De Mayo, a nacho bar was set up which was actually really tasty. So tasty I accidentally spilled a whole plate of it on one of the groomsmen. I had stopped drinking by this point and rode out the night...with a cab ride to a Metra, Metra to downtown, and a cab home. It was a long two days for me.



Warning: The video is loud as shit. This was basically my Sunday. Watching a bunch of sweaty dudes fake fight dance. These were the two best crews competing. It was a fun weekend hanging with old friends and catching up. It was also a long as week weekend recovering especially eating a polish right outside Neo on Clark. I could not for the life of me puke that thing back up. I had to live with that thing slowly rotting in guy the whole weekend. Oh well.

*Also be on the lookout for guest bloggers on here coming soon! Different perspectives and letting my liver rest may be good for this site! And a special shout out goes to Mr. Mike. Thanks for reading son!


No comments:

Post a Comment