If You Don’t Have Anything Nice to Say.

I’ve been wallowing for a day. Bank of America, apparently unaware I have a special lady friend coming into town this weekend, has decided to put a big-brotherly hold on my money, until well after the aforementioned special lady friend departs. The game this weekend is called: “LA in Under $140.” It should be interesting. And before you suggest the Getty is free, parking is $50.

I’m not sure I even have any recourse. But I’m going to yell at someone at the bank anyway, even if only to make myself feel a bit better. A producer friend just finished mixing a new Class Project song, so I will post it here. It’s called Misery’s Company…

Misery\’s Company

Feel free to right-click the link, and download the mp3, otherwise, it’ll just play out of your browser. 

Stimulus or Bailout?

Although I do owe each a phone call, I’d like to thank my mother and grandmother for approving MY economic stimulus plan. In the current political climate, I don’t think anyone can blame a young brother for thinking he deserves a solid handout, paid for by nothing but what said brother perceives to be inherent charm and good will. I also look forward to the $600 from Uncle Sammy for which I have not even been required to be charming (I’m not pleased with the ultimate sentence of this paragraph).

 

And why are we in need of economic stimulus, you may be asking? Well, the downturn in the economy has really messed with my real estate investments. And I’ve been eating a lot. And I haven’t received what might be called a legitimate paycheck since before I graduated from college (June 07).

 

In four profound days, I have become an expert at eating while driving. Pizza, hamburgers, chicken, you name it, I can eat it while piloting the sketchy white van. In case anyone is keeping score, pizza is by far the favorite choice.