I arrived into work about an hour and a half late this morning after badgering my brother into giving me a lift and laughing unhelpfully ("Ha ha! Parkingsons!") as he executed a perfect 27-point-turn into the smallest space in the car park. Drinking on a school night is neither big nor clever but fuck it, it's good fun. It makes for a long Friday though.
We were in the Sugar Club last night where Mr. Hideaki Ishii was strutting his stuff. Or rather, shrugging unassumingly behind his decks while the assembled audience of trendies went fucking mental. I've never seen so many cool haircuts and ironic beards in the one room. Luckily our friend the Littlest Red, my brother and I are all extremely cool and trendy too (she has a mullet, he has an ironic beard, I have anironic iconic sense of style; she's a photographer, he's a designer, I'm a joke social butterfly) so we fitted right in. The crowd were Cool As Ice, self consciously slouching in their skinny jeans and obscure pop reference t-shirts, sucking on Tiger beers and ironic Guinness to go with their ironic beards. Heads nodded approvingly for The Hideous Penguin and Sebi C's inspired support set. Then Krush strolled out onto the stage and all pretence at chic ennui went out the window. He shrugged his shoulders and flexed his arms, they roared. He shook off his jacket and I swear the guy beside me had an orgasm.
And then he played.
I want to be a DJ when I grow up.
We were in the Sugar Club last night where Mr. Hideaki Ishii was strutting his stuff. Or rather, shrugging unassumingly behind his decks while the assembled audience of trendies went fucking mental. I've never seen so many cool haircuts and ironic beards in the one room. Luckily our friend the Littlest Red, my brother and I are all extremely cool and trendy too (she has a mullet, he has an ironic beard, I have an
And then he played.
I want to be a DJ when I grow up.
