I want to start a scremo or hardcore band.
Maybe even grindcore.
Actually it'll SOUND like one of those, but it will be called historycore, because all the lyrics to all songs will be about important historical events and/or people.
What I had in mind was a band called one of the following:
Old Hickory
King Andrew
The Hero[es] of New Orleans
Mischievious Andy
[The]Sharp Knife/Knives
The Caped Crusader[s]
or
Mobocracy.
If you hadn't guessed already, all our music would be inspired by the life and times of Andrew M.F. Jackson, 7th president of the United States.
Who's down?
I can scream and/or play bass, so we'd probably need a guitarist (or two), a drummer (for sure), and maybe a keyboard-er... i made that word up.
MOBOCRACY.
Showing posts with label hardcore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hardcore. Show all posts
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Optimus Prime is not above changing his appearance to get the ladiez.
So you've probably all heard (I'm assuming that most of my readers are still people that know me personally) that Chiodos and The Fall of Troy were playing in Crotchester 3 days apart from each other. So Chiodos was on Saturday, and Fall of Troy is on Tuesday (tomorrow).
And boy do I have some stories to tell.
It starts typically: about 30 minutes til doors and I don't have a ride.
After calling everyone I know who has a car twice, I finally bribe my friend to give me a ride, and he drops me off about 10 minutes after the first band starts playing.
So, in case you didn't know, Southern California is pretty much the most legit of most music scenes, hip-hop and rap excluded. What this means, is that I am inherently more "brutal" than the entire population of the state of New York, including these hXc kids who take themselves very seriously.
And being the utter humbler I am, I decide to go into the pit and THROW THE FUCK DOWN.
Like, in all honesty, I laid out everyone in there at least once. The best was at this relative lull in the moshing where some 250+ lb. mother fucker thinks he can get the edge in on my by charging his fat ass at me across the empty pit. What he failed to take into account is that little ol' 150 lb. Optimus Prime played tight-end in 10th grade, so I tuck my shoulder down right into his groin-ish area, and literally pick him up and carry him back across the pit into an unforgiving wall of onlookers. The rest of the night went about the same. I busted out some of my two-stepping, threw some shit, got some nice windmill action going - mule kicks weren't allowed though. The security guards weren't having it, so I didn't try it. Anyways, I basically wrecked shit out of all the screamo kids within a 100 mile radius of Rochester. I did, however, lose one lense to my glasses. In my defense, though, the lense was already broken, as was the frame, and the whole apparatus was held together with Krazy Glue, so it wasn't exactly structurally sound to begin with.
I wore my glasses in my pocket for the rest of my dancing during the show.
And in this, I made some friends. Don't ask me to remember their names, because I don't, but they seemed to think I was legit, because I sure as hell didn't go out of MY way to introduce myself after utterly destroying their faces.
I guess my reckless endangerment (or as I like to call it Wreck-ful Fun-danger-ment) didn't go unnoticed, though, because between the second and third bands, two security guards grabbed me. One stood behind me and pinned my arms against my side and started steering me towards the door, the other one walking beside me with a hand on my neck. They got me to just outside the door of the club, and the one behind me says to the one with his hand on my neck something to the effect of "You go out first, we don't need a fight right here." Neck-guy obliges.
I see a small group (3, maybe 4 people) standing there huddled around another person. Great, I figure. I accidentally murdered some dick with my hardcore, and I'm about to get kicked out.
Neck-guy "Is this the guy?" pointing at me, speaking to the group of concerned scenesters.
Scenesters "No."
Arm-guy lets go of me, and without any further explanation, I walk back into the club. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but to the best of my understanding, someone wearing either a headband or a blue shirt (the only two things about me that really stood out in particular in the dark club) must've started a fight with one of the Scenesters. Dodged a bullet there, if I do say so myself.
Mkay, so anyways, the show finishes, it's great, right? The Color Fred, Drop Dead Gorgeous, From First to Last, and Chiodos; all great bands. Well I had run into my roomate's ex-girlfriend's roommate, and she had agreed to give me a ride back to campus at some point during the show (since I hadn't arranged for one of those, either).
Well about 20 minutes pass, doors close, and there's maybe 6 people inside the venue, and no sign of the bitch. She ditched me.
That's when I start asking all the people near me if they were going back to the neighborhood near RIT. Not much luck, until a group of four girls exits the building, and sure enough, 2 of them live like walking distance from campus. I score a ride, and 2 of the girls (the two near RIT) are actually pretty cute, so it works out well in more ways than one.
The fat one driving, though, says that I have to chill for like 15 minutes, because I guess they were on a mission to sell themselves to Craig Owens, the singer for Chiodos.
Needless to say, they failed. I had to knock on two tour buses for them, just to find out that he had left right after the show. Not really surprising, but whatevs.
Anyways, we're riding back, find out one of the girls is taken, the two fat ones live in Buffalo (an hour away, phew!) but the last one is single, cute, and 17!
I get back to RIT, and score some digits. I'll definitely be seeing these ladies around Crotchester, and the two cuter of the 3 single girls addered me on MahSpace.
Yeah, it sounds really trendy and scene and poseurish, but what the fuck, I go with it, because these kids are legitimately cute.
And in keeping with the theme, I give myself a haircut tonight.
It looks like this:
Fuck what you say, I'm gonna be ROLLING in the poon when the chicks get a load of this shit.
And boy do I have some stories to tell.
It starts typically: about 30 minutes til doors and I don't have a ride.
After calling everyone I know who has a car twice, I finally bribe my friend to give me a ride, and he drops me off about 10 minutes after the first band starts playing.
So, in case you didn't know, Southern California is pretty much the most legit of most music scenes, hip-hop and rap excluded. What this means, is that I am inherently more "brutal" than the entire population of the state of New York, including these hXc kids who take themselves very seriously.
And being the utter humbler I am, I decide to go into the pit and THROW THE FUCK DOWN.
Like, in all honesty, I laid out everyone in there at least once. The best was at this relative lull in the moshing where some 250+ lb. mother fucker thinks he can get the edge in on my by charging his fat ass at me across the empty pit. What he failed to take into account is that little ol' 150 lb. Optimus Prime played tight-end in 10th grade, so I tuck my shoulder down right into his groin-ish area, and literally pick him up and carry him back across the pit into an unforgiving wall of onlookers. The rest of the night went about the same. I busted out some of my two-stepping, threw some shit, got some nice windmill action going - mule kicks weren't allowed though. The security guards weren't having it, so I didn't try it. Anyways, I basically wrecked shit out of all the screamo kids within a 100 mile radius of Rochester. I did, however, lose one lense to my glasses. In my defense, though, the lense was already broken, as was the frame, and the whole apparatus was held together with Krazy Glue, so it wasn't exactly structurally sound to begin with.
I wore my glasses in my pocket for the rest of my dancing during the show.
And in this, I made some friends. Don't ask me to remember their names, because I don't, but they seemed to think I was legit, because I sure as hell didn't go out of MY way to introduce myself after utterly destroying their faces.
I guess my reckless endangerment (or as I like to call it Wreck-ful Fun-danger-ment) didn't go unnoticed, though, because between the second and third bands, two security guards grabbed me. One stood behind me and pinned my arms against my side and started steering me towards the door, the other one walking beside me with a hand on my neck. They got me to just outside the door of the club, and the one behind me says to the one with his hand on my neck something to the effect of "You go out first, we don't need a fight right here." Neck-guy obliges.
I see a small group (3, maybe 4 people) standing there huddled around another person. Great, I figure. I accidentally murdered some dick with my hardcore, and I'm about to get kicked out.
Neck-guy "Is this the guy?" pointing at me, speaking to the group of concerned scenesters.
Scenesters "No."
Arm-guy lets go of me, and without any further explanation, I walk back into the club. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but to the best of my understanding, someone wearing either a headband or a blue shirt (the only two things about me that really stood out in particular in the dark club) must've started a fight with one of the Scenesters. Dodged a bullet there, if I do say so myself.
Mkay, so anyways, the show finishes, it's great, right? The Color Fred, Drop Dead Gorgeous, From First to Last, and Chiodos; all great bands. Well I had run into my roomate's ex-girlfriend's roommate, and she had agreed to give me a ride back to campus at some point during the show (since I hadn't arranged for one of those, either).
Well about 20 minutes pass, doors close, and there's maybe 6 people inside the venue, and no sign of the bitch. She ditched me.
That's when I start asking all the people near me if they were going back to the neighborhood near RIT. Not much luck, until a group of four girls exits the building, and sure enough, 2 of them live like walking distance from campus. I score a ride, and 2 of the girls (the two near RIT) are actually pretty cute, so it works out well in more ways than one.
The fat one driving, though, says that I have to chill for like 15 minutes, because I guess they were on a mission to sell themselves to Craig Owens, the singer for Chiodos.
Needless to say, they failed. I had to knock on two tour buses for them, just to find out that he had left right after the show. Not really surprising, but whatevs.
Anyways, we're riding back, find out one of the girls is taken, the two fat ones live in Buffalo (an hour away, phew!) but the last one is single, cute, and 17!
I get back to RIT, and score some digits. I'll definitely be seeing these ladies around Crotchester, and the two cuter of the 3 single girls addered me on MahSpace.
Yeah, it sounds really trendy and scene and poseurish, but what the fuck, I go with it, because these kids are legitimately cute.
And in keeping with the theme, I give myself a haircut tonight.
It looks like this:
Fuck what you say, I'm gonna be ROLLING in the poon when the chicks get a load of this shit.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Optimus rereads drunken blog
Again, I will chose to not censor myself, but instead make a new post with the juicy bits I forgot. For example:
At Party 1, there was a Russian kid. I said "hey you're from Russia, aren't you?"
And the conversation went as follows:
"Yes, I am from Russia and I know that if anyone comes up to me and talks about a random subject I can tell from that conversation the history of mankind."
Yeah, it was pretty intense.
The greatest part about [Russia] was when he couldn't open this beer he was holding. It wasn't a twist off, but if it was, he still probably wouldn't have been able to get it open. Anyways, he tried to give it to a woman to open.
Optimus: "Nigga, please. That's a fucking man's job," and I snatched it from the bitch and opened it with my teeth. There was weird foil around the cap, but I just bit through that, too. Vietnamese people wrap their beers weird. He and the broad and the dude the the broad was with were all sufficiently impressed. I don't know who said it (it might've been me) but the word "hardcore" was definitely mentioned.
[Russia]: "I will make these people drink to your health!"
Optimus: "Yeah, drink to my health!"
Then they did. Even the woman, who was the designated driver* drank to my health.
Then, I can't recall if I mentioned this,but that party was busted up by the 5-0. nothing serious, we just had to leave, and my feel-copping was cut short.
But, I guess if it hadn't been busted up, we would've missed the hot naked chicks... so that's good.
Also, they had a bar at the next party, so I didn't have to sip the disgusting beer they had (Natural Ice, Genny light, queer shit like that) but instead I could drink mixed beverages like a man.
Well, I started with a Cosmo, which is only really manly if I get to make it myself.
But then I had a gin and tonic, because I knew it would fuck me in half.
And then I did a shot of vodka without a chaser because I'm hardcore. Well, actually, that's sorta run of the mill for me and most of my drinking friends from So-Cal, but... like I said... I'm probably the most hardcore person in the state of New York. IT went like this:
[Shooter]: "I'm doing shots! Who wants to do shots?" (points at Optimus) "Do you want to do shots?"
Optimus: "Are they free?"
Shooter: "Sorry man, they're a dollar.'
Optimus: "Fuck that, I've only got a dollar left."
Shooter: "Then do a shot!"
Optimus: "...Fine. What're we doing?"
Shooter: "Anything you want! I'm doing a lemon drop."
Optimus: "Sounds gay."
Shooter: "Do you even know what it is?"
Optimus: "Yeah, isn't it a shot of vodka with a lemon wedge afterwards?"
Shooter: "Hell yeah-"
Optimus "Fuck that, I'll do a straight shot of vodka."
Shooter: "Oh dayum! I want to see this."
And then I did it. No biggie.
Shooter: "Oh shit, dude. That was hardcore."
Optimus: "That was nothing."
High-fives all around for Optimus!! Even the 'bartender' gave me a high-five.
I'm awesome.
The only other noteworthy thing was that I apparently posted a comment on my ex-girlfriends page saying something exactly like:
"Let's fuck and make babies.
Seriously.
... So there's that.
Oh... 1 more thing. Ihe kid I went out with (initially) got too drunk and puked in the sink.
I showered upstairs today.
At Party 1, there was a Russian kid. I said "hey you're from Russia, aren't you?"
And the conversation went as follows:
"Yes, I am from Russia and I know that if anyone comes up to me and talks about a random subject I can tell from that conversation the history of mankind."
Yeah, it was pretty intense.
The greatest part about [Russia] was when he couldn't open this beer he was holding. It wasn't a twist off, but if it was, he still probably wouldn't have been able to get it open. Anyways, he tried to give it to a woman to open.
Optimus: "Nigga, please. That's a fucking man's job," and I snatched it from the bitch and opened it with my teeth. There was weird foil around the cap, but I just bit through that, too. Vietnamese people wrap their beers weird. He and the broad and the dude the the broad was with were all sufficiently impressed. I don't know who said it (it might've been me) but the word "hardcore" was definitely mentioned.
[Russia]: "I will make these people drink to your health!"
Optimus: "Yeah, drink to my health!"
Then they did. Even the woman, who was the designated driver* drank to my health.
Then, I can't recall if I mentioned this,but that party was busted up by the 5-0. nothing serious, we just had to leave, and my feel-copping was cut short.
But, I guess if it hadn't been busted up, we would've missed the hot naked chicks... so that's good.
Also, they had a bar at the next party, so I didn't have to sip the disgusting beer they had (Natural Ice, Genny light, queer shit like that) but instead I could drink mixed beverages like a man.
Well, I started with a Cosmo, which is only really manly if I get to make it myself.
But then I had a gin and tonic, because I knew it would fuck me in half.
And then I did a shot of vodka without a chaser because I'm hardcore. Well, actually, that's sorta run of the mill for me and most of my drinking friends from So-Cal, but... like I said... I'm probably the most hardcore person in the state of New York. IT went like this:
[Shooter]: "I'm doing shots! Who wants to do shots?" (points at Optimus) "Do you want to do shots?"
Optimus: "Are they free?"
Shooter: "Sorry man, they're a dollar.'
Optimus: "Fuck that, I've only got a dollar left."
Shooter: "Then do a shot!"
Optimus: "...Fine. What're we doing?"
Shooter: "Anything you want! I'm doing a lemon drop."
Optimus: "Sounds gay."
Shooter: "Do you even know what it is?"
Optimus: "Yeah, isn't it a shot of vodka with a lemon wedge afterwards?"
Shooter: "Hell yeah-"
Optimus "Fuck that, I'll do a straight shot of vodka."
Shooter: "Oh dayum! I want to see this."
And then I did it. No biggie.
Shooter: "Oh shit, dude. That was hardcore."
Optimus: "That was nothing."
High-fives all around for Optimus!! Even the 'bartender' gave me a high-five.
I'm awesome.
The only other noteworthy thing was that I apparently posted a comment on my ex-girlfriends page saying something exactly like:
"Let's fuck and make babies.
Seriously.
... So there's that.
Oh... 1 more thing. Ihe kid I went out with (initially) got too drunk and puked in the sink.
I showered upstairs today.
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