Heatwave Mini-Mix



I threw together a little Heatwave Mini-Mix. Enjoy!

1. We Are Young (Jersey Club) — Kyle Edwards & DJ Smallz
2. Off the Ground — Anderson .Paak
3. Give Life Back to Music — Daft Punk
4. Lean On (feat. MØ & DJ Snake) — Major Lazer
5. Hide (Tropkillaz Remix feat. Childish Gambino) — N.A.S.A.
6. Forgiveness — MADE IN HEIGHTS
7. Lucky I Got What I Want — Jungle


Lover’s Cave


This video smells like herpes and bong resin.

Is it wrong that I wanna blame Lena Dunham for this greasy hipster aesthetic? Probably. I blame Lena Dunham for a lot of things that aren’t really her fault, like cronuts and internalized misogyny.

Plus, I really can’t stand this rancid flavor of stringy haired indie-bro.

These scraggly douche mops are always lounging by the hotel pools in skinny jeans and leather jewelry. They’re the ones in town from some crusty fuck corner of London or New York who talk endless shit about LA while picking their toenails right in front of you. Then they wanna hit on you by aggressively trying to trade sunglasses. No thanks, dude. I don’t wanna catch head lice from your neon wayfarers, and if you don’t like it here, you can fuck off back to the gloomy pale underbelly of whatever urban jungle you find most authentic.

Whatever. If you ignore the band, I guess this is a decent little tune. I don’t suppose anyone minds a bunch of gap-toothed dirt squirrels flopping around with their tits out. If rug burned knees and cheap lingerie are your thing, then hey, who am I to hate on a good time?


Les Baricades Misterieuses

The Tree Of Life


Les Baricades Mistérieuses
François Couperin

My last month at work has been a fresh hell. A key person exited the company, leaving behind an ever-so-predictable power vacuum. I had no choice but to strap in and let it suck. Unfortunately, I’ve found myself engaged in a battle of wills with a woman who is superior in rank, but inferior in character.

She is well positioned because of her relationship with the owner, but the only thing she lacks more than integrity is competence. I never gave her the time of day until this past week when the cunt started fucking with my livelihood. She flat out stole from me. Took money out of my pocket. It was both flagrant and malicious. It’s open war now, and she has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. I’ll cut a bitch.

Anyway, this is the music I listen to at my desk while I’m sharpening my knives.

It calms me.


Who’s Ordie?

Tonight I caught the wife of a guy from my distant past drunkenly squinting at the back of a coin that turned out to be a New Hampshire quarter.

“Live free, Ordie?” she asked. “Who’s Ordie?”

I took a deep breath and said, “It’s live free or die.”

Everyone laughed, but for some reason, it made me incredibly sad. Later I drove home with all the windows down while blasting this song.

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