Photographis Blogicus

Coachella Run-Off Week.

2006-05-17T20:31:00.000-07:00

The Coachella Music Festival was on April 29th and 30th this year, and being that it takes place only a short drive from Las Vegas, many Coachella bands headed down to the Vegas Valley, played some small-venue shows, and partied it up. It was definitely a great time, as good bands rarely play here...

Two side notes:
This blog was going to consist of pictures from The Subways show as well, but they cancled the show, and I'll be damned if I'm going to a Rock Kills Kid concert... So, we just had to make due with two days of footage rather than three.

Also, Josh (of Dentz Lentz Eventz fame) sat in with me on this writting session. I'm not sure who's joke is whose, but you get the point.

Enjoi.

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I always knew that I would meet my true love/soul mate at a place like the Beauty Bar, and I was right... Oh canned-Busweiser, my sweet, where have you been all of my life?

Since the advent of my new digital camera, Photographis Blogicus has taken long strides into the twenty-first century. Seriously, it has so many crazy features on it, the possibilities are limitless. I mean, it has about twenty built in filters alone that you can apply to pictures. For example, this picture is me running the first picture through the "Emo Filter." Pretty rad, huh?

Here's a free, Photographis Blogicus sponsered, sneek peek at the cover for Frank Miller's latest Sin City novel, That Soused Jerry. It's a swank tale of booze, dames, rock and roll, and booze. You can pre-order it on Amazon.com starting July 17th.

For those of you who don't get that, it's because Josh said that this picture looks like a graphic novel cover, because I look like such a fucking evil cartoon character, that I don't even look like a person. I was going to give it some gnarly photoshop effects to make it look handdrawn, but I think that takes away from the spirit of a photo-blog. So, whatever.

If my parents taught me one thing, it was this important lesson: It's important to respect other cultures. And in honor of that, we decided to form this totem-pole as a crude tribute to the Native American peoples that once made the Vegas Valley their home. In fact, here's a little known Nevada history fact... the proud Slapahoe Tribe once inhabited the very ground upon which the Beauty Bar was built, and it is in their spirit that we present our drunken totem pole (from bottom to top):

Big Liver, Litte Penis.

Doe That Does Not Drink of Fire Water.

Horizontal Cabasa Head

Eagle With Double-Beer Talons, and by Eagle With Double-Beer Talons, I mean: Balding Eagle With Double-Beer Talons.

Nothing will better sum up this picture than what Josh said, "guess which one of these people standing next to me is a dirty hipster and which one is the lead singer of a band...can't do it, can ya, like playing three card monty..."

And also, I think it's kind of funny when you look at this picture from left to right, and your thought process is, "Man, that guy's hammered... no wait, that guy's trashed... no, no, no, look at that dude! He's fucked the fuck up! It's like one of those Russian dolls you keep opening up, and it keeps getting smaller... except this time it just keeps getting drunker.

This is a picture of Josh, Me, and Lillian Berlin, and it involves a pretty hilarious story, which I shall now relate...

As we came stumbling towards our cars, what should we see, but Lillian and his brother, Bosh--the drummer, just hanging out infront of the El Cortez. They must of been waiting for a ride, or some shit. Anyways, as we come strolling past, I pause to shake their hands, congratulate them on a show-well-done, and take a quick picture for Photographis Blogicus. I should note that, at this time, ridiculously hammered Josh, had no idea who the fuck I was talking to, despite the fact that he had a Living Things t-shirt cast over his shoulder.

Anyways, as this is going down, I say, "Hey, let's get a picture dude..." and Bosh, the drummer actually offers to take the picture, but I turn down his offer with a triumphant, "No, dude... you get in the picture too," and then proceeded to take the picture myself. In case you didn't notice, the drummer is not in this picture, I totally missed, and he was all like, "Ehhh, wanna do it again?" And I slapped him a high-five and said, "No, dude, we got it!"

Man, sometimes I can be such a dick by accident...

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There's some things in life you can't explain, like Shinaed O'Connor having a hair dryer, or why there's a Rio Tan franchise in Compton, or how me and Josh could be mistook for rockstars. But as in most myths in life, we believe because we want to believe. And sometimes miracles do happen.

Speaking of miracles, these wristbands, or "advaned ticket purchases," if you will, provided us with a gateway into the promised land. Yes, once again, I went out with the intention of not getting hammered, got mistook for a rockstar, and then got free drinks all night... and thus I failed. And by failed, I mean suffered liver failure.

Welcome to Day #2.

Due to the fact that we received free drinks all night, we also defied logic all night... at least, that's the best explaination I can think of.

Seriously, take a time-out and really look at this picture, examine the fuck out of it. There's NO WAY it was actually taken. There sheer physics of how everyone is pictured just doesn't make sense... I mean, look at how everyone is positioned--fine. But then look at the angle of my jack and diet!!!! It defies both logic and gravity. The only explaination I can muster is that we were actually on the Gravitoron carnival ride.

After asking Josh how exactly he defied gravity in the previous picture, he slapped me in the face, levitated to the bar, "stole" three free whiskey-diets, and teleported back. After he teleported back, I asked him how much he tipped the bartender... It seemed as if this queston blew his mind, and as he did the extensive long-division in his head, I snappped this quick picture.

All booze and no work makes Chrstina go something, something...

Josh, angry at his friend, Tyler, for not being as belligerently retarted as the participants in the previous two picutes, attempted to give his friend a cigarette lobatomy, in order to catch him up in the special-olympics rankings.

Despite never wearing a condom throughout their sexual endeavors, this couple never experienced a single pregnancy scare.

This is a quick picture of me and my sister sipping on a couple of VIP-free drinks. But seriously, her new CD is awesome, The Duke Spirit's, Cuts Across the Land, can be purchased at Urban Outfitters, or your local record store. Check it out, seriously--do it... it's by far one of the better 2006 releases thus far.

At this point in the night, Christina and I realize that we are hammered, and we further realize that one of us has to go open the Bong in he morning. So, we came to the conclusion that the only fair outcome was a best-of-seven--royal rumble--paper, rock, sissors match. Winner takes all.

I lost.

This concert actually inspired Josh to write a blog about how totally, "Gay," Vegas is. Makes sure to check it out. But, anyways, the Nine Black Alps put on an amazing fucking show; One of the best I've seen... but unfortunately, I'm one of seven people in Las Vegas to actually see it. No wonder no one cool ever comes here.

True story.

After the show, we came up to Sam Forest to congratulate him on a great show. I think we may have been the first americans to do such a thing, and thus blew his mind... because he didn't really know what to say. I remember, I asked him if the merch booth was selling Glitter Gultch, their new EP, and he didn't really understand the question. Granted, he was probably way hammered, but still.

Also, Josh got all emotional and raged out on Las Vegas for not showing up to the show, and Sam Forest was just like, "Yeah, we never sell out." Which prompted Josh to exclaim, "Yeah, that's why America is a huge faggot!" I think Sam Forest thought it was a trick question, and laughed it off. Anyways, I thought that we freaked him out enough, snapped a quick shot, collected my drunken posse, and saunted off into the sunset. And by sunset, I mean: sunrise.

PS: Writting this just reminded me to order Glitter Gultch on-line. THAT'S how good of a show it was.

After the show, I ruckused off to the Red Hawk, to meet up some people, and what do I see?

It's Karim neckin with some breezey, let's get a picture guys!

Doh my God...I wanna scream with horror and explode with laughter at the same time. But I guess I'll just settle with the satisfaction of knowing that that's not my mom. Speaking of not being my mom, I guess this chick's daughter got two D.U.I.'s in one week, which is just amazing. If that's not a Guiness World Record, I wanna drink with the dude that holds that record!

After a night of being a member of the Beauty Bar VIP Free Drink Club, I just had to take this picture to make sure all this really happened. I would just like to take a second to note the look of concern on my face... although I can't tell if it's concern for my friend, Karim, or self-concern for smoking a clove that Pig Sout gave me, *shudder*! Either way, there's definitly something amiss in this picture.

In hindsight, when your friend walks up to you and says, "Hey, I had sex with a forty-seven year old mother of two," you are inevitably struck with a haze of disbelief. A disbelief that can only be countered by a picture of you carrying your friend to a station wagon, a station wagon piloted by the said forty-seven year old woman.

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On a final note, who noticed I fucking spelled my own blog's name wrong in the watermarks? Nobody? Good!

Redhawkary to the Max

2006-02-01T11:11:00.000-08:00

RED HAWK: DECEMBER 1ST
[EDIT: Yeah, that's not Cheese... apparently I don't know all the intricacies of Kuz' friends' nicknames. A big "who cares" to Charlotte, without the 'O,' for pointing that out to me. But seriously, thanks. (12/15/2005)]

Yeee-haw man, living every pure blooded caucasian dude’s dream. Drinking a giant PBR while choking out your wo-man. On a side note, you can tell why Kristie’s my friend, because that’s definitely not my hand throwin up the horns.

Hahahahahaha, it’s Darren’s roommate. I think his name is Cheese. I always wondered why they called him cheese. I’m pretty sure this picture sheds some light on that mystery.
Also, why is he about to hook up with that girl if he’s drinking... BOTTLED WATER! Dude, at least hold a bottle of tequila for the picture or something so you can have an excuse to tell your friends later.
Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese

This picture perfectly illustrates what we call the “Yin and Yang of Tequila.” Person A takes a shot of the much hated beverage under much peer pressure and coaxing with boob shots. Person B then laughs at Person A’s tequila-taste-misery for the next five minutes.
NOTE: Yin and Yang of Tequila only applies to white people.

Here, local celebrity Shelly Croissanwich is involved in a violent struggle to fend off the paparazzi. She pretends she doesn’t want her picture taken and subsequently plastered all over the Myspace tabloids the next day, but we can tell deep down inside she likes it. Either way, I hope she turns around and tells that girl in the white shirt that that’s a pool table, not a dance floor, and that the guy singing on the microphone isn’t really Sir Mix-A-Lot, and, I guess explain to her what karaoke is, and I dunno card her or something?

I spent probably about fifteen minutes convincing this girl that I lived in Japan for four years and spoke fluent Japanese. Also that the Japanese character tattooed to her lower hip/upper vagina was not really the Japanese character for "Dancer," and in fact that it was the Japanese character for, "Questionable Lady." It was great because she totally believed me too... but in hindsight, I probably should have just made a Killer Klowns From Outerspace joke and moved on.

Yep, it’s a Christmas Light nipple... and if you lick it enough times, it does in fact light up. It also lights up if you accidently touch my metal edges while trying to remove the butterflies in my stomach with tiny plastic operation pliers.

Dude, I’m two for two on looking like a fuckin psychotic retard on these group jager shot pictures... but really, look at Josh Lentz in this picture. He looks like he’s leading a Special Education field trip to a kareoke bar. How come he’s the only one that doesn’t get to look like one of the flaming retard triplets, a sweaty dead guy, or a deep throating Puerto Rican chick?

Josh, dude... I think you need to give Matt his glove back.
Either that, or stop borrowing Paul’s arm. I know it’s cold out man, but just buy a jacket or something.

Beer goggles? Beer goggles are for pussies. Try seeing the world through the eyes of one, Mr. Hans Deerstein. Now that’s a fuckin trip.
Also, it looks like Denney’s taking this picture with his face pressed up against an imaginary glass window.

Wow, that's amazing... I'm not even mad.

Wow, surprisingly this group shot was taken towards the end of the night. Somehow eighty percent of the photograph managed to pull it together and look somewhat sober. A cop probably took this picture...

Okay, let’s do some basic math. Lots of alcohol, plus Kristie’s roommate with drunk in her eyes, equals giant smile on skeevy guy’s face.

Yeah, Kristie and her roommate definitely did some kissing, but you can tell she doesn’t really love her because her eyes are open.

I’m not really sure why there was another picture of this right after the first one. My only guess is that I told them the first shot looked totally uninspired and to try harder. At any rate, it looks like they are, so I’ll toss a golf clap out there. On a side note, go me for being able to tell the first one was sub-par without the aid of a digital camera.

I don’t know what the fuck this was a picture of. But the old guy in the white trash hat watching fishing on ESPN is absolutely hilarious.
Also, I don’t know what was said between Kristie and Sean Denney here, but that is one high quality "What the Fuck" look on Denney’s face.

"Cut!" screamed the director a mere moment before the red cloud spewed forth from Denney’s mouth. Tyler smiled and walked back to his trailer, his work here was done. Luckily for Tyler, he rarely went anywhere these days without his stunt double.

Remember how in Kindergarten there was that kid who would eat anything for like a nickle? Well, those kids grow up, and they will eat light bulbs for shots of jager.
What, you didn’t think that joke was funny? Well fuck you, my stunt double guy’s laughing... we pay him for that too.

Much like chipmunks or squirrels, the wild Kristie Millers will often horde table salt, straws, ice cubes, and other such necessities in their hoods in preparation of the long winter.

On this edition of FOX’s So You Think You Can Dance the judges were especially critical of the young dancer’s C-Walking abilities.

See Christina, maybe if you show up before three o’clock in the morning next time, we can BOTH look like drunk assholes in the picture.
Also, my eyes look really fuckin freaky, like the children of the corn or some shit, I dunno, but those eyes are for sure gonna haunt my dreams.

Christina showed up at 3:00 AM, and by 3:05 she was involved in a high stakes game of beer-limbo, a dangerous game in which you must limbo under a drunk Sean Denney’s arm without spilling the two beers you are double fisting in a vain attempt to catch up with the seven drunk fuck-o’s you met up at the bar.

Sometimes you’re the life of the party...sometimes the party takes your life. But sometimes you pass out and the party draws a penis on your forehead. Either way, this picture pisses me off, because they were passed out in the bar, which is funny. But not NEARLY as funny as them passed out on top of each other in the back of a car. Oh damn you Kodak for only making your disposable cameras hold 27 shots instead of 28.... damn YOU!

Half the fun is in washing the puke off of this T-shirt the next morning. On an author’s notation, I’m glad Cheese moved onto Kuz from that first girl... he’s much prettier, and probably willing to do anything for a green card.

Marissa's Birthday and the Soulfly Show

2006-02-01T10:55:00.000-08:00

Marissa's 24th Berfday Party

This was Marissa trying to take a picture of her new boobs for all of us. Unfortunately, Marissa's photography skills aren't as good as her new boob skills. So, ummm yeah, we'll just have to take her word on that, but "D" for effort Marissa!!!!

Here, the artist formerly known as "Bitchell" was found in the back on the party locked in a steamy embrace with one Mr. Hans Deerstein--a local celebrity who made out with over a third of the party that night.

I was so happy to actually see Matt Mitchell hanging out with us, I apparently turned completely fucking gay for the remander of this picture I don't remember taking. However, on a side note, I also didn't remember the mass singing of the national anthem (one and a half times) or drawing a Hitler mustache on Karim until I was reminded on Sunday, so yeah.... go team Big Fags!

Hey look, it's my good friend Chelsey... I apparently owe: her over half a jager/red bull, and Darren Kuzyk an apology. Also, if you look closely, you can see a small cartoon asian guy grabbing her nipple with chop sticks... Which beg's the question, "Where was Sean Denney during this party anyways?"

I think this picture pretty much speaks for itself... if it's any consolation, this was the first shot we all took that night, wait... that kind of makes it worse.

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Soulfly/Throwdown Concert

The fabulous Mr. Doug Ong drove us to the show... he either: A) was a little hyped up, or B) Learned to drive from Aldo

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Quick, what has one hand full, is too drunk to point at itself, and loves PBR? THIS GUY!!!!

These guys just got married, but Peach Fuzz McGoatee didn't spring for the delux wedding photo package, so I figured I'd be cool and use my former pro-photography skills and take some shots for them. I was going to send them the pictures, but the marriage got anulled the next day when she sobered up.

I wanted to take a picture of me pissing on this mo-ped, since the dude driving it was probably wearing a skirt... but unfortunately he was parked two rows down from a yellow jeep with a Don Juilo decal on it... so you can do that math on that one. Note: I especially like how he has a hooked-up exhaust system on this hog, haha.

After the show, we all went to Aldo's new condo and Doug kicked over my grape juice/vodka. Aldo has white carpeting... wait, let me say that again... ALDO has white carpeting, WHITE!!! Just cause ranch dressing is also white, doesn't mean it won't leave a stain when you spill that bucket of buffalo wings trying to do a flying people's elbow off of the coffee table, buddy.
Anyways, the real reason I took this picture was because it's the first time any of us have ever seen Aldo clean something, so I just wanted to see if the film would come out all distorted and blurry like pictures of bigfoot. And also to make sure we didn't hallucinate this.
On an extra side note: what kind of grown-ass man keeps grape juice in his refrigerator?

Here's Doug Ong eating Roberto's Taco Shop at one AM... come on Doug, you're a doctor, you went to medical school for eleven years and learned every fasces of the human body. You should know how bad this is going to fuck your shit up man!!!

This girl was licking everyone's eyeballs and taking pictures of it... I thought, "Wow... that's kind of wierd." But later that night she walked back into PT's covered in guacamole and flashing everybody, and at this moment it all came together and I realised she was just being "that girl" that night... so it all made sense in the end. Anyways, I told her hell no unless she bought me a drink. Needless to say, we all woke up with pink-eye the next day.

Ever see that SNL skit where Chris Kattan pretends to be a monkey man from the Amazon and runs around screaming "BaK!" and humping peoples legs and stuff? I'm not sure if that's what Doug was going for here, but this girl definitly seems less than pleased with it.... bad Mr. Peepers!!!

Yep, it's a picture of a broken golf club... pretty unexciting, huh? Well, that's only because you didn't see some guy our age start beating up an 89 year old dude in the parking lot and then get blasted in the head with a golf club. Lesson? Never mess with an 89 year old man in the grassy hills of Summerlin, it's their natural habitat, you'll get your ass kiiiiicked!!!

If you look closely at this picture, you can see this girl's soul.

These were some super scene kids... did you know if you're straight edged, you still eat at Roberto's at 4 o'clock in the morning? Yeah, I was confused too. One of the kids in that group was wearing a Throwdown hoodie, so I asked him if he went to the show, and he said, "Hell no, Throwdown sucks ass!!!" Once again, I was confused...

These chicks were violently making-out, grabbing eachother's boobs, and other various acts of drunk-vegas-chickary, So I--being a guy--took a picture. And I somehow managed to capture them in the least hot pseduo-lesbian pose EVER...

This chick was from Reno, she really likes going to Sparky's, Walker would probably hate her... That's right Walker, I'm pointing through this giant hooped earing at you, you buddy, because you and this chick have probably argued over what part of a dog's anatomy sweat comes from.

I've thought long and hard why the hell I took this picture and I can only come up with one hypothesis... I think that it was supposed to be a picture of Doug and this girl, but my drunk ass doesn't know the difference between horizontal or verticle or something. Anyways, Doug has on a pink leather wristband!

Undeniable photographic proof that the jukebox at the Summerlin PT's does indeed play Iron Maiden songs...

This girl is finishing the irish car bomb that Aldo spit back into his glass because he was too drunk to finish it... and no, we are not super gross assholes; she saw him do it, called him a pussy, gave me a highfive, and drank it. This chick is more hardcore than me... wow.