[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
had to get it in, now we’re done. fuckitbye.
tempted to think that meeting us for drinks is a dirty ploy to take us down, make us stop, nu? well: eh. we ran out of gas. it’s hard on the back making points and talking gibberish even we don’t understand.
The Following YM delegation will be there in full effect. We look forward to it.
also, please don’t jump us. we’re pretty defenseless.
youngmanhattanite:
FYM: One of our crew is up for a drink. Spitzer’s at 10pm tonight? No dodgeball, please. This scene is bad enough as it is.
This reminds me of that “assmble your crew” Prince basketball bit that Chapelle did. “Game: blouses.” No winners.
The FYM crew is committed throughout the weekend, unless 11 to 12ish tomorrow night works. We all have our individual caves and shitholes and late night-ish jobs to crawl back to, you know. But we’re glad to take you up on the offer.
Well, I guess it’s that time for us, too.
Seacrust, out.
i know. i eat shit-on san loco every night. you’d think they could come up with something better. can’t man up for the showdown, can they?
youngmanhattanite:
I’m pulling a D.R.Adams. The Midget Holocaust has done me in. This is the last tum post by me, Krucoff. You people (not you, the other you) have won the war and should be congratulated. Ten pounds of defecated Bud Light-sprinkled San Loco will arrive on your doorsteps soon. I won’t delete this account (sounds nervy, eh?) but I’m removing it from the YoungManhattanite.com sidebar - a fate worse than “unsubscribe” - where I will resume my usual Jew and music blogging. Internet Week New York is on the horizon and I must prepare more MP3s. Swing by, leave a comment!
You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s it?
