UPDATE:
Find Waldo us on the party page of GBH. How obnoxious. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming:
I need to empty my recycle basket. Don't you think?
I like to think that this could be "art" that speaks to the lack of a creative and critical discourse in the modern office in today's capitalist milieu, where paper, which permeates all offices, and it's incredibly discursive quality is minimalized in order to maximize and propogate profit. The physical tabula rasa is used to print rote correspondence seeped in a facade of familiar salutations and amity that only serve to mask the dog-eat-dog nature of business. What I've done here is to crudely equate the perverted symbolism of paper with trash, however by utilizing a recycle basket I'm bluntly screaming that there is no hope. It remains a forever viciously recycled business of corporate robots and soulless peons.
Oh, by and by: I'm selling a limited edition reproduction of this photo for 900 dollars each. And the actual item can be yours for 10,000 dollars.
Speaking of art, on Thursday Carly and I went to an art exhibit in the LES aka an exucuse to drink at the open bar, which was spilling over with uber-hipsters, and three girls who accidentally wandered in ask us what was happening there. So we told them about the exhibit. They looked around and asked us, "Where is The Art?"
Exactly, where IS the art? Hmmm. Deep thoughts. Think about it.
Ms. Thang.
Carly and me with my sweet 3-D glasses I found around the office. The place was so jam packed, that she and I ended up chilling out by sitting on the cabinets, quite literally.
Classy plastic cup.
Mmm, open bar! (But look at all those barely touched wasted drinks!!! Travesty!)
Carly's magazine friend Andrew. Thanks dude for hooking us up with free drinks even after the bar 'closed.'
Andrew (look at his "been frequenting the open bar for quite awhile" eyes...haha) and his super cool friend who is starting her own jewelry company.
Happy people.
Afterwards, we bounced over to Hiro for Cheeky Bastard partay.
Haha! This might be the most brilliant photo of Sam. Sam and Nick run a art community website called Heelpress. Go check it out, sign up and join, and upload all your creative efforts.
Nick--the other half of Heelpress (which later that night as he was talking to a couple girls became a porn site). I think I'm going to bring more prop items out with me. Everyone wanted a turn with those glasses.
The K to the S doing her best Stevie Wonder impression.
Pure foolishness.
A two drink minimum?
Haha.
LeVar Burton was also there. He kept trying to read us shit from Reading Rainbow, and I was like, "Dude, stop. We're trying to dance!"
Sweater over shoulder? Yes!
Haha. As this photo was being taken, Chris--who at the time was flirting with the bartender or something--saw this and thought "I NEED TO BE IN THESE PHOTOS" and he SPRINTED over...just in time to make the next photo:
Chris literally came to one of those cartoon skidding stops just as the flash went off. Result? Brilliant photo.
Hot sweaty dance floor mess.
"And the midget was THIS tall bro! Someone THIS tall can't be calling herself a midget! She was hot though."
"And this was a tough move, but those How-To Riverdance videos really paid off!"
Mikey (He can dance better than you) backs up his trunk...and Carly kinda likes it.
And of course, the night ends with a jump!
Final thoughts: Did I really dance on stage? Did I really see Chris wheelbarreling a girl on the dance floor? Was there really a 50 dollar minimum? Did someone really text message...basically, Pol Pot? And lastly, one thing one should never throw down the gauntlet and call me a pussy.
