blur.

as usual, my weekend was a blur. some people have been telling me that they are concerned about my drinking and they are worried about me. well then gimme a reason not to. first of all, how can it be a problem if the solution is in your hand? and second of all, you won't have to worry about me when i'm dead, so just stick it out a little while. ok peaches? thanks.

anyways, friday night we attended the lovely dingbatz to hear the triumphant sounds of voice or no voice, along with turn it up, flat earth society, maximum penalty and vision. i grabbed a couple flicks of voice or no voice:







i also got a couple of some gang vocals during vision:





cousin ryan showed up late, but we partied anyway:



i got even more annihilated at dingo's den after the show. emily drove me home and i walked into my apartment which had turned into some impromptu dance party complete with teriyaki wings.

















saturday night, there was too much going on. division east show with mcrad at halligans. starlight hip-hop show in lyndhurst. i wanted to at least stop at one of them before jersey city, but i hopped in the whip mad early with jannson and tank. we scooped up shanthrax and swizz and hit up 660 grand by like 10. i finished a pint of southern comfort in about 20 minutes and someone kept handing me a bottle of jack daniels and then some other shit. jager. jim beam. both. i don't even fucking remember. then i took some bong rips in e-rocks room. all i know is that i got so fucked up that i didn't wanna climb that rickety ass wooden staircase to the top floor.

i went in the back room for a few minutes where the ramp was, but that shit was hella crowded and small, so i went back and basically chilled in the art gallery the whole time. at one point i think i stood against the wall for like 30 or 40 minutes eavesdropping on hipster conversations and softly chuckling to myself. i probably looked like a real creep. hopefully. jannson bounced and i grabbed a ride home with addie and christina d. i managed to get one picture. it wasn't in the art show. it wasn't anyone at the art show. it wasn't anyone skating the ramp. it was some random thing that i saw on the street along the way to christina's car:



and that's all she wrote folks. let's play again real soon.

this is what i do.

this weekend was a fuzzy journey involving a lot of absinthe, a lot of beers, a lot of jamesons and a lot of laughs with good friends. i had to have a butcher knife and a box cutter taken away from me several times, as my friends feared that i would hurt myself or someone else. i hacked shit up in my apartment and threatened people with a swiffer vac. but i wouldn't hurt a fly. i swear. i also had a freestyle rap battle at 6am with jannson. i don't remember what we were saying, but it probably sucked. i went to my man frank's record release party in harrison which was dope. after he rocked the mic, max jerome blessed us all with some throwbacks and the entire bar erupted into a dance party. go cop the new emily rugburn shit for free at emilyrugburn.com. peep some flicks: