[OOC] Message Board
Token contact post alongside the list of RP threads. Feel free to drop a message or constructive critiques. Comments are screened; this is a Safe Place, so have at thee.
October 2010
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Tags
- 4chan
- a minute of mayhem
- a pro at benders
- a punk's tour
- acceptable signage
- amphitrite
- ankle-biter ragout sounds okay actually
- at least there's cupcakes
- belial
- big brother much?
- blues
- busiest night of the year
- california: not all on fire
- cheap entertainment
- classic rock
- coal
- cocaine
- college
- comfort food
- dee dee's dead now if only i could
- diy
- drugs are fucked in the head mmkay?
- eat a dick
- electricity
- feet to the asphalt
- fetish
- fuck you
- fuck your records
- fucking lackeys
- fucktards every single one of you
- get out of my kitchen cocksuckers
- good morning world
- goth
- green day can suck my cock
- grunge
- hate all of you
- hate catering
- hate rainbows
- hate weddings
- heavy metal
- hello to the mari-morgen
- hemera
- here we go again
- heroin
- hey: fuck you
- home again home again jiggity jig
- i will skull fuck the lot of you
- i'm sober i just don't want to be
- i'm the only misbehaver here
- indie
- industrial
- jazz
- keeping close to home
- keeping our hands busy
- keller won't know what hit 'im
- knock that shit off
- kumiho
- lust
- lydia
- marijuana
- maybe our noses clean too
- meat gelatin for all
- meh holidays
- melpomene
- moose no squirrel
- my kitchen bitch
- national security
- nihilism
- nnnngh nic fit
- no not mine
- not a fucking babysitter
- not enough booze in the world
- not irish but the musicians are
- ohio is obsessed with chili
- only in america
- ooc
- overkill's not actually bad
- paparazzi
- pastry chefs are not chefs
- piercings
- porn's okay though
- pornography
- punk can cook
- rave
- raven
- really what did you expect?
- republican party
- returning the favor
- right-wingers = just as bad as democrats
- roll with it
- rp threads
- running a band of pirates
- salt is life
- samarth rai
- sato
- seattle = good for maple bacon donuts
- st. patty's day
- stay out of the weeds or i kill you
- steel city what?
- sunchokes can be evil
- terpsichore
- the democratic party
- the kids are all right
- the pistols are long gone
- they live they die we live we die
- this is hardly news
- this is why i don't drive much
- twee
- unacceptable customers
- useless sniveling shits
- vermont is surprisingly liberal
- wall street
- we've got the music back
- where the fuck is shushan?
- where was i again?
- why are the cigs not working?!
- wtf nys?!
- yeah like that's gonna happen
- yet it's still maddening
- you ought to try it
- zeus
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- [OOC] Message Board
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- Here I am, getting older all the time, looking older all the time, feeling younger in my mind.
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- "Pork is the answer to all problems."
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- I am a cruel God.
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- Fucking Green Day. Stupid twats.
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- 'Yeah when the joke's on you though you're the joker too you've had enough'
- 'I'm the greatest fucker here, and you sniveling shits would die without me.'
Syndicate
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Jan. 1st, 2020
Oct. 28th, 2010
Hey: Fuck you.
Jun. 17th, 2010
Not enough cigarettes in this fucking shit world.
Who scheduled the private party with the emphasis on aspic? You and me gotta have a word.
Who scheduled the private party with the emphasis on aspic? You and me gotta have a word.
May. 27th, 2010
Kumba-fucking-ya.
Apr. 22nd, 2010
Punk will be MIA for 2/3rds of Thursday. He's had a lot on his mind since McLaren's death -- London was where he first felt the flesh, as it were -- and will spend the first half of the day skulking blackly about the city. When midday rolls around, he'll be down with A Minute Of Mayhem, will ride what high he can get off of that, and then head back to Masque.
Who knows what's going to be on the menu tonight.
Who knows what's going to be on the menu tonight.
Apr. 15th, 2010
( [Indie] )
Apr. 14th, 2010
Bullwinkle didn't like the crash pad. S'fine; the fucker took up half of it anyway, and between it and me now I'm without any fucking guitars and it's time to scrounge up a new mattress. Stinking, shit-crusted bastard pissed on the old one.
Called the cholitos, and it's meeting its warm, fuzzy fate at the hand of Dmitri the butcher. I asked the evil old fuck to let me call him Boris, just this once.
Moose steaks on the menu tomorrow. Gift-givers get free chow.
Called the cholitos, and it's meeting its warm, fuzzy fate at the hand of Dmitri the butcher. I asked the evil old fuck to let me call him Boris, just this once.
Moose steaks on the menu tomorrow. Gift-givers get free chow.
Apr. 8th, 2010
Savarin au citron, pickled pears and peanut brittle, English cucumber gelée.
Mar. 24th, 2010
Or just maybe, you WASPy cunt, there's such a thing as smart kids who could give a shit about your hate-mongering. 'Cause fuck, if someone doesn't like or wanna hear what you've got to say, that's got to automatically take their intelligence quotient down to zip.
Choke on it.
Choke on it.
Mar. 17th, 2010
I could have gone to Boston for the Murphys and that flailing fucking parade of drunks.
Except we've got plenty of those here. So tonight I'm heading out to get wasted and piss on every bastard within range.
Except we've got plenty of those here. So tonight I'm heading out to get wasted and piss on every bastard within range.
Mar. 12th, 2010
Transfats, now salt? While we're at it, why don't we just make New York a raw state. Or we can do what fucking California does and legalize liposuction instead of eating.
Screw that. Let's criminalize water next -- I need that for cooking about as much as I do salt. Get out of my fucking kitchen, you syphilitic bastards, and let me do my fucking job.
Screw that. Let's criminalize water next -- I need that for cooking about as much as I do salt. Get out of my fucking kitchen, you syphilitic bastards, and let me do my fucking job.
Mar. 9th, 2010
Mar. 8th, 2010
New sign for the kitchen. If I hear one more screamer in my restaurant, it's tender and delicious ankle-biter ragout for our next special.
Babies in bars: Fine, yes, let's get right on that shit.
Babies in my kitchen: I'm gonna cut your throat with a broken bottle.
Capisce?
Babies in bars: Fine, yes, let's get right on that shit.
Babies in my kitchen: I'm gonna cut your throat with a broken bottle.
Capisce?
Feb. 26th, 2010
Bull-fucking-shit.
Feb. 17th, 2010
Whine whine, cold. Whine whine, snow. Whine whine, I got arrested and can't come to work 'til you pay my bail. Screw you, pepito. You don't call hours before dinner rush with shit like that.
Tonight, everyone suffers for their hermano's mistake. Mercy fucked off to New Orleans for the week.
Tonight, everyone suffers for their hermano's mistake. Mercy fucked off to New Orleans for the week.
Jan. 28th, 2010
Jan. 15th, 2010
Dec. 23rd, 2009
Guitar's finished. Who needs sleep between dinner service when you can build a bitch that sounds so good? And live in the restaurant, any-fucking-way.
Nov. 25th, 2009
Skeleton crew tonight before the big night tomorrow. You'd think any of my band of fuck-headed bastards would know better than to try asking for fuckin' Thanksgiving off.
Keeping myself busy in the meantime.
Keeping myself busy in the meantime.
Nov. 18th, 2009
I feel beautiful, crystalline levels of hatred for every thing on this motherfucking shithole of a planet, and the next time that little pastry-making douche so much as blinks at me, I will shove a meat tenderizer down his amphibious little throat.
Nov. 2nd, 2009
Fucked if I can remember the past four days.
Whoever's couch I woke up on, I took a towel with me. And a pair of shoes.And half your liquor supply. And the brioche. And some of the silverware. And one of the paintings. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Fuuuuuuuck. Hair of the dog fixes everything.
Whoever's couch I woke up on, I took a towel with me. And a pair of shoes.
Fuuuuuuuck. Hair of the dog fixes everything.
Oct. 22nd, 2009
Your precious European pet was safely ensconced in a closet his crash pad, boss. No bruises, even. Not for lack of trying.
If it's all the same to you, I'm going back to cooking now.He said something about lemon snow pudding with basil custard sauce and I wanna give it a shot. Which is, as you might recall, what I signed on for.
If it's all the same to you, I'm going back to cooking now.
Sep. 30th, 2009
Here I am, getting older all the time, looking older all the time, feeling younger in my mind.
Hello, New York.
I missed you, you great, messy, heaving whore-bitch. Filthy, fucked up love of my damned life. Did you miss me? Don't lie -- I can see it in your glassy eyes; no one does you quite like I do.
It's okay. I know that I'm shit up a creek for Vermont, for Pennsylvania, Ohio, California, Washington, Texas and all those other shithole towns. Napa's got nothin' on you, baby. I'll show you. Cross my heart, on the graves of dive bars long dead and CBGB's cold and gutted corpse.
Damn, but it feels good to be home.
I missed you, you great, messy, heaving whore-bitch. Filthy, fucked up love of my damned life. Did you miss me? Don't lie -- I can see it in your glassy eyes; no one does you quite like I do.
It's okay. I know that I'm shit up a creek for Vermont, for Pennsylvania, Ohio, California, Washington, Texas and all those other shithole towns. Napa's got nothin' on you, baby. I'll show you. Cross my heart, on the graves of dive bars long dead and CBGB's cold and gutted corpse.
Damn, but it feels good to be home.
Sep. 8th, 2009
You guys are fucking hilarious.
In other, less retarded news... Boss, I'm skipping Seattle if it's all the same to you. It's not worth the dining clubs.
In other, less retarded news... Boss, I'm skipping Seattle if it's all the same to you. It's not worth the dining clubs.
Sep. 1st, 2009
Well, shit.
I woke up in Napa Valley. Found this out after I staggered out of the hotel fresh from some dream ofSid and Johnny bone marrow pudding.
Bad news: Fucked if I remember how I got here.
Good news: This is French Laundry territory, motherfucker.
I woke up in Napa Valley. Found this out after I staggered out of the hotel fresh from some dream of
Bad news: Fucked if I remember how I got here.
Good news: This is French Laundry territory, motherfucker.
Aug. 29th, 2009
Goat cheese-stuffed dates wrapped in bacon. It's how I'm coping with being stuck in the fucking Buckeye State until the rental gets fixed. Yee-fucking-haw.
Fuck me gently, I miss my city. Getting out and getting drunk with other cookies is all well and good, but trying to sleep in places like this is like digging my own goddamned grave and having a lie down. Where's the noise?
Fuck me gently, I miss my city. Getting out and getting drunk with other cookies is all well and good, but trying to sleep in places like this is like digging my own goddamned grave and having a lie down. Where's the noise?
Aug. 28th, 2009
In Pittsburgh, of all fucking places. Squirrel Hill's pretentious as hell, but I had sugar shock for a late breakfast and have been jittering my way through the day like I've got the DTs.
We'll see if tonight's anything worth talking about. Color me skeptical.
We'll see if tonight's anything worth talking about. Color me skeptical.
Aug. 26th, 2009
Sending back a shipment of sunchokes, fiddleheads and high-grade maple syrup. (Could roast the sunchoke with butter and the syrup. Throw in some rosemary, maybe some garlic.)
Still arguing with the Vermonters about cheese and G.G. Allin.
Still arguing with the Vermonters about cheese and G.G. Allin.
Aug. 17th, 2009
"Pork is the answer to all problems."
Smack in the middle between the Adirondacks and New-fucking-Hampshire. It shocked the shit out of me -- I didn't even think people lived out here. Maybe just foraged in the wild like prehistoric ape-things. I keep lookin' around and waiting for the Deliverance banjos to start playing, even if I am still in Yankeeville instead of the deep-fried South.
On the plus side, Masque now has a choice fucking deal on Tamworths and Gloucestershire Old Spots. You would not believe the size of the bastards out here, boss. I asked if they'd be willing to slaughter Wilbur in honor of being graced with my presence, so expect a shipment in the morning. There should be a smaller package with it since I know Angel, my little chuleta, can't live without pork testicles. Tell him it's from Papi, huh? Cost-wise we're still ahead of the Savoy.
There's a good chance they fuck the livestock out here, but damned if they don't know how to raise pigs.
On the plus side, Masque now has a choice fucking deal on Tamworths and Gloucestershire Old Spots. You would not believe the size of the bastards out here, boss. I asked if they'd be willing to slaughter Wilbur in honor of being graced with my presence, so expect a shipment in the morning. There should be a smaller package with it since I know Angel, my little chuleta, can't live without pork testicles. Tell him it's from Papi, huh? Cost-wise we're still ahead of the Savoy.
There's a good chance they fuck the livestock out here, but damned if they don't know how to raise pigs.
Jul. 19th, 2009
Going out to scrounge up free drinks tonight. Need it after staring at a vomit-inducing amount of rainbow-themed food.
Whatever brainless line shit that wanted to float dyed lobster in aspic is getting my foot up their ass. This isn't fucking Chuck-E-Cheese, and we're not doing not-so-clever spins on 1950s "Americana". It was motherfucking nasty when housewives threw fuck all in Jell-O, and it's disgusting now.
Useless.
Whatever brainless line shit that wanted to float dyed lobster in aspic is getting my foot up their ass. This isn't fucking Chuck-E-Cheese, and we're not doing not-so-clever spins on 1950s "Americana". It was motherfucking nasty when housewives threw fuck all in Jell-O, and it's disgusting now.
Useless.
Jul. 14th, 2009
I am a cruel God.
Garde manger was kind enough to pin some articles to my locker. The Mexican hardcore was well and good -- I'll show it to his madre later -- but the article about some Gossip Girl bitch calling herself a punk rocker earned everyone the gentle crooning of Billy Joel in the kitchen all through Monday.
Beatings will continue until morale improves. Fuck yeah, I'm petty. Nothin' wrong with suffering alongside your beloved pissant soldiers.
Beatings will continue until morale improves. Fuck yeah, I'm petty. Nothin' wrong with suffering alongside your beloved pissant soldiers.
Jun. 5th, 2009
Today's the big day. Another one gone. Another fucking one dead and buried, too old and too young and fuck it all we're all gonna die eventually, anyway. I miss you, Dee Dee. I'm okay admitting to that. But I don't miss the drugs. I don't miss the needle. Except ah, fuck, I do and you've gotta keep reminding me of that damn it all.
College. You and me, we've gotta have words.
College. You and me, we've gotta have words.
Jun. 1st, 2009
Fucking Green Day. Stupid twats.
Maple bacon donuts save the fuckin' day. That is all.
May. 15th, 2009
Hey, assholes. I've got a day off coming up and won't be heading in to work to check in on things, right. There are people out there who owe me alcohol. In exchange, I will give you my eternal disgust. It's a bargain.
Heroin. You're on that list. Buy me a drink.Just get in range of my hands, I promise it'll be good.
Heroin. You're on that list. Buy me a drink.
May. 6th, 2009
My people have been calling out political douchebaggery for decades now. It's what we do. In light of the most recent scandal, I've decided fuck this shit. If the Jackass can be a world power and act like he does -- this is shit I've done and been bitched at for in the past, so what makes it okay for "the leader of the free world" to get away with it? -- then so can I.
Boss, I'm gonna need to take a leave of absence. If I'm gonna run for President, there's a lot of campaigning that'll have to get done, right?
Whaddya think of "Punk For 2012: Never Pretended To Be Anything But An Insensitive Asshole"? A little wordy, but I'm gonna have my guys work on it.
(That includes you, Blondie.)
Boss, I'm gonna need to take a leave of absence. If I'm gonna run for President, there's a lot of campaigning that'll have to get done, right?
Whaddya think of "Punk For 2012: Never Pretended To Be Anything But An Insensitive Asshole"? A little wordy, but I'm gonna have my guys work on it.
(That includes you, Blondie.)
Apr. 28th, 2009
[Back-dated to painfully early Tuesday morning]
More proof that my time should just be spent with that band of classy fucking pirates I work with. I'm going in early tocontrol break make work on something. Anything. Don't bother me for a few days, all of you, unless you want a paring knife in your eye.
More proof that my time should just be spent with that band of classy fucking pirates I work with. I'm going in early to
Apr. 21st, 2009
'Yeah when the joke's on you though you're the joker too you've had enough'
Need to find some work to fill the day lest I wind up like the rest of you bored and boring bastards. Time to start calling around and finding out who's still hiring, who shut down and who OD'ed from coke.
Apr. 20th, 2009
'I'm the greatest fucker here, and you sniveling shits would die without me.'
I come back to this city, my city, to hear that the closest fucking prat I have for family has been busy boning holy fowl and that two of my favorite workplaces are closed and one of my chef-priests is dead. As if CBGB wasn't enough.
What the fuck is wrong with this picture, and why the hell am I not desecrating all things bright and beautiful with my immortal genitalia?
What the fuck is wrong with this picture, and why the hell am I not desecrating all things bright and beautiful with my immortal genitalia?