Thursday, May 31, 2012
download limbo for pc
http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=web&cd=8&ved=0CHYQFjAH&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.filestube.com%2Fl%2Flimbo%2Bdownload&ei=DrLHT9jGDsmA2wXUq9yOCw&usg=AFQjCNHkhY4FY7l0M0koffFN-A32LtOomg&sig2=Kl4tmw0VzO7fwQwxadoIMg
one of those might work.
i have a problem. the bike temperature was really high when I got to the bottom of the hospital. I wasn't sure why, then when I parked, I see it's leaking some kind of fluid.. looks like oil but it wasn't where the oil pan is. It was on the left side (oil goes in on the right). It might be oil, I coudn't tell where it was coming from and I had to go into work. Gonna call Mike to find out. I can't drive home without that fluid, whatever it is.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/30/2012 03:23:00 PM
boom. Downloaded SlideIT for free. And already sold both games on amazon. They fucking took like 20% of the fuckinbprofit. Still paid for witcher 2
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/30/2012 03:23:00 PM
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/30/2012 03:12:00 PM
on tablet. lidstrom has o be retiring.
yeah. no real experience with aarabic. can only get it by integrating withbthem.
i ll play witcher 2 ang go from there
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/30/2012 03:12:00 PM
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/30/2012 11:55:00 AM
what are your thoughts on the gameplay of mass effect 3? $20 on amazon. 20 hours to beat at least. it'd be worth it as a rental if the gameplay isn't bad. i know you don't like it but give a more objective rating
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/30/2012 11:55:00 AM
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/30/2012 11:38:00 AM
do you have your tablet with you? I can't beat level 4-4 on Lair Defense: Dungeons. Couldn't beat it in Peru, played last night and couldnt' beat it. No strategy guides online, either. Maybe I upgraded wrong, but I think it comes down to the fact that I never have enough money to upgrade the right stuff.put portal 2 and skyrim on amazon.. $46 if they sell. that'll pay for witcher 2, booom.
gonna go make 5 lbs. of chicken and call it a day.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/30/2012 11:38:00 AM
Re: [Madness Writers] Re: [Madness Writers] Re: [Madness Writers] 5/30/2012 06:05:00 AM
nah i knew most of it like the back of my hand. there was one question, the DNA protein thing that separates the DNA helixes....
83 on the A&P? you mustn't be studying much. it's not that hard, man.Did about 600 ab workouts. too easy. the reverse incline thing, i'll have to start using that more, it's probably the most difficult for what i can do at this point. Of course, the hardest one is holding yourself in a pullup position and raising the legs. Did 100 biceps and triceps, and some legs. they don't cool it down enough in there.. wasn't too bad today but that's 'cause I wasn't doing any seriously strenuous workouts.Gonna buy the witcher 2. $37 on amazon.. wow, free 2 day shipping. boom, that's a crime. i'll play it throughout june at night probably. get my money back by reselling it. basically a rental. Or I can send it to you and have you sell it when you're done. doesn't matter to me. Takes at least 30 hours to beat and I guess there are 2 storylines so you can play it twice. If I don't like it, I'll sell it. Sometimes I think it'd be nice ti play a game of NHL, but then I think of the glitchers and god-like goalies.. glad I don't have it.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/30/2012 11:27:00 AM
Re: [Madness Writers] Re: [Madness Writers] 5/30/2012 06:05:00 AM
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/30/2012 06:05:00 AM
That guy always gets in arguments and daily miserably.
83 on my test. Nor bad. Kid beside me got a 64 . Gonna lose his scholarship. Sucks for him.
what's this guy trying to say? he's an idiot, plain and simple.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/30/2012 06:05:00 AM
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
you mean 2010. i tbought you left in april or late march of 2009 for thebarmy. youd know.
in 2009 it wasnt long after you left for the army. i still spent time at seans and steves but i was mostly livi with emily.
clead my bike. the back parts were filthy. bought kerosene at walmart. $5 and it cleans the chain by itself. ton of grease from it. two white towels turned black from all tbe grime. too easy.
we make too much money. we ant rich but we can pretty much buy whatever we wanyt without worrying about the bank account. icouldnt imagine making 100 grand a year. savemost of it probably. if i had no studenloans wed be rolling in green. ah well.
jimmy would know this
Oh well.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Fwd: hilarious article
From: "Sean" <seanmichaelross@gmail.com>
Date: May 28, 2012 7:12 PM
Subject: hilarious article
To: "Sean Ross" <daedalus311@gmail.com>
http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/features/2001/8004.easterbrook-fulltext.html
Re: [Madness Writers] Re: [Madness Writers] 5/27/2012 05:41:00 PM
"The style we're watching? It is boring hockey. Really boring. Out-muscling, out-bumping. The game's almost all played along the boards. In my day, as soon as I got the puck, I faced the play. Now, you watch (Anze) Kopitar, the way he protects the puck. He puts his back towards the defenceman, the defenceman can't do anything. He goes to the left. Then he comes back to the right.
"In the meantime, nothing happens.
"Very seldom do you see a forward beat a defenceman one-on-one. Doesn't happen. And the way Wayne (Gretzky) used to curl and trap guys? Very, very few players do this now. There's just no room out there. And I think most of the guys are restricted in what they're allowed to do.
"Sometimes you didn't watch the game and later that night you see a replay and you say, `Oh, what a spectacular play! Must've been a great game!' But that was the only frickin' play in the whole frickin' game.''
-Marcel Dionne, a member of the Hockey Hall of Fame. George Johnson of the Calgary Herald via Canada.comhas more from Dionne, mostly LA Kings talk…
Sunday, May 27, 2012
interesting
hint: all 3 were 12-2
Fwd: [Madness Writers] 5/27/2012 03:24:00 PM
hahahahhha got owned son.
back spasms suck, nothing you can do about it.. maybe take muscle relaxants and/or lie down. definitely no exercise.I got either 59 or 60 mpg on the last fill up. I don't remember if it was 228 or 232 miles, definitely was 3.84 gallons. I was at 16x miles going to work thinking "oh crap I might not make it home, better get gas" but I didn't stop at the gas station. probably 232 miles, doesn't matter. I try to go just above 70 mph. Difficult to maintain a constant speed on the hills. I know when I'm going 80 mph though 'cause it feels faster and the wind resistance is higher.Got pulled over today on the bike. I went up a road that is one way I guess. I go down it all the time with Emily, didn't know it was one way. So I go up it and there's a sign saying "do not enter" but it was too late, I get to the top of the hill and god damn, there's a cop at the stop sign at the intersection, pulls me over. Didn't have my ID or anything, gave him my name, address, and driver's license number. Luckily, he only gave me a warning, no ticket or anything, just gotta walk three blocks to the police station to give him my ID, registration, and motorcycle insurance card. Too easy.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/27/2012 03:24:00 PM
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/27/2012 05:41:00 PM
Oh SNAP! 4. The Kings are attempting to become the fourth consecutive team to win the Stanley Cup after opening its season in Europe. They began on Oct. 7 with a game in Stockholm, Sweden, against the Rangers.Right there, the series is over. they were 29th in the league in goals per game (2.28 i think) but they're averaging 2.93 in the playoffs. series is over.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/27/2012 05:41:00 PM
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/25/2012 05:56:00 AM
eh, i saw it last summer when we had cable, heather had it on. wasn't all that impressed.
maybe not the special, but damn this is funny http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtcMlIBF43I
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/25/2012 05:56:00 AM
Re: [Madness Writers] note to self: patrice o'neal
I watched that on YouTube.45 min at most. Short. Kinda funny, nothing workday breaking
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/25/2012 03:15:00 AM
He next bestows his approval on a black man's date: �Congratulations to you, my friend!� he says. �Look at that white woman you're with!� He invites the audience to consider this fine specimen: �Black women get mad at that. But that is top-shelf white woman right there.� He's arranging and rearranging members of the audience on various sides of an argument that they don't quite know they're in yet.
�You know how you tell how pretty a white woman is? The value?� he asks. �You look at her and then wonder how long they would look for her if she was missing.� He points to the evidence already at hand: �C'mon, take a look. Take a look! Look at this! Look!� Everyone is laughing, but you can hear uneasiness. He appeases it by enlisting a black woman to exploit the prejudices he's now juggling. �I saw you look mad, sweetie,� he says as if he's talking only to her. �If you was missing, how long you think they would look?� He reports back to the crowd, mimicking her mournful shrug. He lets the sorry truth land: �White woman's life is valuable.� He then asks the audience to help him remember the point he was originally getting at: �What's his name�Joran van der Sloot? We find out he was a serial kill�man, he kills women, that's what he do,� he says. �What's the girl in Aruba?�
�Natalee Holloway!� people shout out.
�But the one�he just killed the girl in Peru, what's her name?�
Silence.
�Exactly!� he says. The audience cracks up and breaks into applause, simultaneously chagrined and excited to have sprung that trap he's set for them.
All this, he explains, is why he's taking a white baby along when he goes sailing, just in case the boat sinks, to be sure that someone will come looking for him: �I'ma dress the baby real white, too. I'ma put sweatpants on it, and a pair of Ugg boots, and I'ma take a picture,� he says, snapping the photo with his imaginary iPhone. � �If you don't come get me, this white baby going down!' �
Man Up, Bieber
Justin Bieber is now 18 years old. Which means, technically, he's an adult. But the question remains: Is he a man? (If you just laughed, congratulations: You're mean.) GQ sent Drew Magary to spend one wild night with the Beeb in Los Angeles right after his big birthday, with explicit orders not to come back until we knew the answer
I have been told specifically that I will be able to punch Justin Bieber in the face. It is mid-March, and I am standing on the patio outside Conway Studios in Hollywood, where Bieber is recording his new album, and I have been waiting for him for hours. Fifty-one hours, to be precise, at least if we're counting the two times that our meeting has been postponed so far. This time, however, I have been assured that Bieber is really coming, and that he wants to fight me. He's due to arrive at any minute now, which is good, because I can't wait to draw some Canadian teenybopper blood.
Justin Bieber is now 18 years old. And when you're a teen superstar who has just turned 18, there are really only two options for where you can go next: You can mature into a "real" artist, or you can swan-dive straight onto the pop-cultural scrap heap with all the other reality stars and drug addicts. A small cottage industry has been erected around Bieber to make sure he doesn't choose Door No. 2, and so the rebranding of a more grown-up Justin Bieber has begun. There's the new album, out this month, called Believe, which is stacked with ready-made dance-floor singles. There's a new haircut (no more stupid bangs). And then there's me. To commemorate the birth of Bieber 2.0, GQ asked me to fly out to Los Angeles and make a man out of him. Never mind that Bieber has already made more money and been offered a finer selection of quality tail than you or I ever will. The goal was explicit: Get Bieber to experience some kind of rite of manhood.
To that end, we proposed to his people any number of insane ideas: drinking, smoking, drinking, going to a titty bar, gambling, drinking, shooting things, drinking, etc. We assumed most of them would be rejected but that perhaps one might slip through the cracks, hopefully the drinking. I told everyone I knew that I had been handed the precious mission of turning Justin Bieber into a gin-swilling, donkey-punching man of the world.
My wife: "You're meeting Justin Bieber?"
My mom: "That's the kid with the hair, right?"
My kid: "You're meeting Justin Beaver?"
Damn straight I was. And when I was done with him, he would be Justin Beaver: teenybopper turned porn-star assassin.
Of course, none of this ended up coming to pass. Turns out neither Bieber nor his team were all that interested in any of our manly ideas. In fact, it's a measure of just how carefully managed Bieber is that all of our ideas, even having a simple beer, were treated as impossibilities, like proposing to build a gay disco in Iran. A second round of gentler ideas (let's race go-karts!) was also rejected, to the point where I was willing to settle for just seeing Bieber in person, to confirm that he actually existed. His people finally blessed a basic, nothing-on-the-agenda meeting on a Monday night, only to cancel it while I was midair on my way to Los Angeles.
On Tuesday, I was told that I could meet him at his recording studio and then we'd hash out whatever manly activity was left for us once we ruled out anything fun. I got there at 8 p.m. and was told by Bieber's PR lady that Justin was in the studio but was about to go to dinner with his mom and I'd have to wait till he got back.
"So he's here now?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Can I see him?"
"No."
"Can I go to dinner with him and his mom? I'll eat light."
"No. He'll be back in an hour."
To keep me occupied, I was escorted into the studio, where Kuk Harrell, Bieber's vocal producer, was working on Believe without him. Harrell is an incredibly nice man who looks like a black version of Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka, so I was happy to sit around and stare at his hair for a while.
After a few minutes, I noticed that someone had drawn a bunch of dicks all over the grease board by the door. So I pointed at them and asked, "Hey, who drew all the dicks?" One of the sound engineers immediately jumped up, ran over, and erased them with his sleeve. This is the new and mature Bieber. We can't have dicks being drawn all over the place. People might get the wrong idea about filthy-rich 18-year-old pop stars.
At eight forty, the PR lady came in to tell me—surprise!—Bieber would not be returning tonight. Finally, after I sat in my hotel room for another day and ran through as many imaginary conversations with the Beeb as any of his 12-year-old fangirls, word came down from the mountaintop: I would meet Bieber at his studio at 6 p.m. that night and we would box. Given all of our suggestions that had been rejected, this made no sense. Well, we can't have Justin openly buying pornography—why don't we just endanger his singing voice and orbital bone structure instead? But only a fool would argue. If someone asks you if you'd like to punch Justin Bieber in the face, the answer is yes.
···
Now I'm back at the studio, ready to fight. Bieber is running late, I am told, because he's procuring the boxing equipment. The PR lady, Melissa, warns me that Bieber boxes regularly and that his father, Jeremy, is a former MMA fighter. Now I'm starting to get a little worried. I've been waiting two and a half days, and I was looking forward to teaching this kid a lesson about punctuality. But for the first time, it's dawning on me that Justin Bieber might be able to kick my ass. What if his Horny Teenager Strength can easily overpower my Dad Strength? What if he knocks me out? What if he puts me in the hospital? What if he kills me? Do I still get paid for this?
As it turns out, Melissa is only half right. Bieber's father is indeed a former MMA fighter, but Bieber himself is no Drunken Master or anything. One of the guys in his crew tells me that Bieber just went through a brief boxing "phase"—he bought every piece of boxing equipment and had one intense training session, then lost interest. I exhale.
Finally, after an hour or so, the gate to the studio lot opens and a Range Rover with black matte finish pulls in. Bieber. No doubt about it. I can feel his presence. He's like Luke Skywalker, if Luke Skywalker had his own perfume line.
I hear the voice first. Once Bieber is out of the car, he begins calling out for Ryan Aldred, a close friend and his former stylist. His voice is so high, it sounds like a ringtone. He's trailed by his security director, a half man/half bear with an Israeli accent named Moeshe Benabou, whose Mossad-level neck-snapping skills are slightly undermined by the fact that he's carrying around a tiny designer leather backpack, like Mickey Rourke holding a Chihuahua.
There is no way around it: Justin Bieber is a very small human being. He's 18, but he could easily pass for someone six years younger. His rep says he's five feet nine, but he looks about four feet four, maybe one hundred pounds. I shake his hand, and it feels like there should be more hand there. I suddenly realize that I can't box this guy. I'm ten inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier. I ought to sit with him and read him Babar. But soon it doesn't matter, because Bieber says he forgot his boxing equipment.
"I didn't want to get my ass kicked," he says.
"But I was told your dad was an MMA fighter," I say.
"Yeah, he was."
"So you could beat my ass."
"No, not really."
And just like that, game over. No beatdown for either of us. No catharsis. There goes my last chance at making a man out of Bieber. I'm out of options. I'm stuck here with an 18-year-old, and we can't drink, we can't smoke weed, and we can't leave the premises. We're gonna have to talk.
We head into his studio, where Aldred greets Bieber and pumps him up for the evening by ripping the sleeves off of his T-shirt while he's still wearing it. OUTTA MY WAY, SLEEVES. This is clearly not the first time they've performed this ritual. It's Bieber's patented entrance move, his talcum powder tossed in the air. Being Justin Bieber means having an endless number of T-shirts to destroy.
···
I have been warned by several people, including some people in his own camp, that Bieber has a very short attention span. This is correct. He is amazingly distractible. He also bursts into song a lot, at random intervals, no matter who's around. (...Money on my mind and you on my mind, too much on my mind...) If it were anyone else, this would be annoying, but this is Justin Bieber, so every improvised song fragment is intended as a present to whoever's around him, like that SNL skit in which Picasso dashes off sketches on scraps of paper and hands them to anyone walking by.
After the impromptu T-shirt alteration, Bieber goes into the recording room to listen to two songs he says he wrote just days earlier. He plays one of them and then proudly announces that he wrote it for his mom, who raised Bieber largely on her own in Stratford, Ontario. "She cried," he says of her first listen. When he plays the second track, an as-yet-untitled reggae-infused love song—I just wanna be loved by youuuuu—I ask who inspired it. This time, he ducks his head shyly and stammers out, "That one, I just wrote it." Bieber has been romantically linked to fellow singer Selena Gomez, but he's not going anywhere near that. Like every other teenager in the universe, Bieber evades questions by staring directly at the floor.
I ask Bieber if he'd like to venture outside the studio to talk over dinner, but he declines. "It's just a pain in the ass," he says. Bieber exists inside what amounts to a series of interconnected skyways: He goes from his secluded house to his secluded Range Rover to his secluded studio, rarely setting foot in the exposed world. Suggesting that we pop down the block to a restaurant is insane. Stupid, even. I have been assured by Scooter Braun, Bieber's manager, that Bieber is "very normal, very regular," which is nonsense. No one can be normal living under the circumstances that constitute daily life for Justin Bieber.
So we stay at the studio and retreat into a rec room with a pool table. I'm told this is the first time that Bieber has ever been alone with a reporter for a one-on-one interview, which is not true but still makes me feel like a pederast. He immediately grabs a cue and begins playing by himself. I stand off to the side and start lobbing questions at him.
Bieber, justifiably, isn't forthcoming with people he doesn't know, and so I do most of the talking, because whenever I stop talking, there's nothing but silence. Vast, horrible silence. Lots more floor-staring. I ask Bieber if fame ever cramps him.
"Not really, no."
I ask Bieber about the new house he reportedly just bought.
"I'm not telling you where I live."
I ask Bieber about not having set foot inside a classroom since he was 14 and how he feels about education in general.
"As far as education goes, you should be a smarter person."
I ask Bieber about getting shitfaced.
"For me, it's just like, I like to be in control of myself. I mean, I've had a beer, like, before.... But I never get out of control."
(Later on, I tell Braun about this response, and he says, "He knows that I hold him to a high standard.... He doesn't want to blow it.")
"I mean, I keep my guard up a lot, because you know, you can't trust anyone in this business," Bieber says. "That's what's sad. You can't trust anybody. I learned the hard way." I assume he's talking about the paternity suit that was filed against him (reportedly withdrawn) or maybe the comments he made to Rolling Stone about abortion that made pro-choice advocates angry. Bieber has already learned that every rough edge he shows the world will be turned against him, and so our conversation skates gingerly along the surface of things.
After forty minutes of playing pool by himself, he finally comes over to a nearby barstool and engages with me like an adult. He starts looking me in the eye. He never ignores me to check his phone. There's a glimpse of a thoughtful person in there, someone who knows he's a caged animal. We talk music, and he mentions his love for pre–"Black Album" Metallica—"One," "Fade to Black." "Those are my jams," he says. At last, we've got something in common. I feel no desire to punch him in the face anymore. I want to take him on a college tour and buy him sixty cheeseburgers. Seriously, the kid needs to add bulk.
A bit later, someone alerts Bieber that West Coast Customs has arrived with his new Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van. So now he's running out to the parking lot to give it a once-over. It took West Coast six weeks to trick out the van, and WCC founder Ryan Friedlinghaus is here to hand-deliver the keys.
The Sprinter is exactly the car that an 18-year-old with too much money would drive. The interior is lined with Alcantara. There are two reclining seats way in back, with bucket seats lining the driver's side of the main cabin, as in a stretch limo. There are three hi-def TVs, a computer dock, and a fully operational recording studio along the passenger side. All that's missing is a button that spews out an oil slick, Spy Hunter–style, to foil paparazzi. Bieber's pals try to guess how much it costs. "Definitely not a million," says someone. One of Bieber's business advisers, a woman named Allison Kaye, isn't wild about the new toy. "Oh, this just screams inconspicuous," she says to Bieber. No response.
Everyone gathers around as Bieber tours the van. He is euphoric. So much so that he has decided to pledge his loyalty to West Coast Customs forever and to decry its rival, Platinum Motorsport. "Fuck Platinum," he says. "Platinum can suck a dick, man. West Coast all day." This is a different Bieber from the one who was imprisoned with me just five minutes ago. This must be the Bieber that Bieber would like to be all the time. His R-rated rant, though, draws a reprimand from Friedlinghaus. "I respect everyone's business—it's all love, dog," he tells Bieber. "Dudes came from my neighborhood, you know what I mean?" Bieber is chastened. "I respect that," he says. To atone, he invites Friedlinghaus and the entire West Coast Crew into his recording bungalow to listen to the new songs. "I'm 18 years old and I'm a swaggy adult!" he yells. "Come on, swaggy bros!"
···
Bieber likes to listen to his music at roughly 9,000 decibels. Once we've all piled inside the studio, he sits by the console, cues up the first single, "Boyfriend," and turns a big red knob in the center as high as it will go. You don't think of Justin Bieber's music as eardrum-splitting, but when the volume is ratcheted up like the amplifiers in Back to the Future, lyrics like Swag swag swag on you / chillin' by the fire while we eatin' fondue quickly turn into Pantera's Vulgar Display of Power.
When we spoke the day before, Harrell insisted that despite the squadron of professional songwriters penning demo tracks for him, Bieber is in charge of his musical identity. "He knows his brand," he said. "If he hears something, he'll go, 'I think that's me....' The brand steers the ship." (Or as Bieber himself puts it to me, with casual bravado: "I've never made a bad song.") I asked Harrell, who also works with Rihanna and Jennifer Lopez, if Bieber ever needs to be pushed during recording—if he ever gets his feelings hurt. Harrell said no: "He hurts feelings."
I'm starting to feel physically ill from the volume, but it doesn't seem to faze any of the guys from West Coast Customs. They all crowd around Bieber, marvel at his gold chain that's long enough to rig a mountain bike, and nod their heads to the beat. Bieber also starts nodding his head. Soon everyone is nodding his head, like white people at a company karaoke night. Once in a while, someone will pull out the jazz hands to punctuate a drum fill. Occasionally one of the West Coast guys will erupt in laughter, as if to say, This is so awesome that all I can do is laugh hahahaha!
I'm the only one not nodding, and I start to worry that I'm being a dick by not nodding. Bieber is sitting at the console, soaking up everyone else's nods, getting the validation he's looking for, and I'm the lone holdout. I'm not sure he notices or cares, but I feel like I'm breaching an unspoken rule. I don't want to look like I'm faking it, so I don't nod. I genuinely like some of the songs, especially "Boyfriend," but I have to watch my expression during the tracks where Bieber raps. His flow is slower than prostate cancer.
Finally, the engineer offers around earplugs. I'm the only one who grabs a set, but even with the plugs, I can't stand it any longer. I run back out to the patio and join some of the guys from Bieber's crew. Alfredo Flores, another close pal, says he can't ride in cars with Bieber anymore because he plays his music so loud.
"That kid's got ears made of steel," I say.
"Until he doesn't anymore," says Flores.
"He'll be Pete Townshend in, like, two years," I say.
"Who?"
Apparently, the steel eardrums run in the family: Moeshe, the security director, says Bieber's mother was given a ticket that very day for playing music too loudly in her car. "One week," he adds, "she blow twice the speaker in the car. Brand-new car."
···
At last, Harrell finally decides to break up the listening party and get Bieber in the booth to work. Bieber was going to lay down a new track tonight, but time is short, so Harrell is just going to have him do a few ad-lib vocals over two existing tracks. Bieber hops into the booth, which is festooned with the requisite soothing tapestries, and starts to sing while still chewing on a wad of Swedish Fish. Despite no warm-up of any kind and a mouthful of candy, Bieber is never off-key. He's an old hand by now.
After forty minutes, Bieber's done. That's it. I have been told repeatedly what a hard worker he is, but in two nights—Bieber only records at night—I've witnessed him work for a grand total of forty minutes. Soon he's back to pinballing around the studio. He catches Kaye ragging on Kim Kardashian. "That bitch should never wear white in public again," she says. Bieber gets mildly indignant and sticks up for Kardashian. "You guys are so mean, bro.... People say she doesn't do anything; she actually does do stuff.... She works hard." Bieber is, of course, wrong, but it's easy to see why he sticks up for Kardashian. For one thing, they once did a photo shoot together, which naturally makes them best celebrity friends forever. And he surely knows what it's like to be hated by people who've never met you. Unlike Kardashian, though, Bieber is legitimately talented. He has something to offer the world. He wants to be a real artist. He wants respect.
But the way his life is built around him is going to make that very difficult. There's too much riding on his "brand" for him to get dinged and knocked around and punched in the face, to suffer—and to bounce back from—the kind of traumas that make a child into an adult. My mission was to make a man out of Bieber. The label's mission is to make a man out of Bieber. The only person who isn't ready to make a man out of Bieber is Bieber. He wants to be 18. He wants to be a swaggy bro—he seems incapable of being anything else—and that's as it should be. Manhood can wait.
It's almost midnight, and Bieber is going home now. But before he leaves, he pokes his head into the break room to yell, "GOOD NIGHT, BITCHES!" Melissa, the PR lady, winces. But she shouldn't. That, right there, is a proper 18-year-old, someone who probably knows how to draw an excellent dick on a grease board. To be a real man, you gotta be a real boy first.
Drew Magary is a contributing editor to Deadspin and the author of The Postmortal, a novel.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
that'd be nice to have real gears. if I'm moving at all I'm in 2nd, when I"m slowing down at a red light, I never go below 3rd until I stop. At a stop sign, I never go below 2nd - don't stop at all. no need. Mike was really taking off, no way I could catch him.. going onto route 30 near the hospital, it's a 4 or 6% grade, cant' really tell. He took off, got a few hundred feet in front of me.. the car coming up in the slow lane from behind was moving probably 65 mph, had to get in the fast lane 'cause it took me forever to catch up. Moving 70 mph still took me probably 20 seconds.
yeah, you have it made at work. I'd take full advantage man. you won't get that ability in the real world. i hate studying and doing homework at home, such a waste of time.
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/24/2012 04:02:00 PM
that vulcan does kinda die out in power after 4th, as mike told me. he said you dont even need 5th or 6th. i dont know if I'd go that far, never tried it, but if you drive 60 or so you probably dont.
studied 4 hours so far today, gonna do one more hour.
thenm ill be half way done studying for the test, do the other half tomorrow, then have the weekend holiday to finish up the touches on my A&P knowledge.
i studied the bone parts last night for a while, today for about 45 min. its pretty easy. i was distracted lastn ight during the 3 hour study session, pretty frequently. looking ont he body it all makes sense. nothing hard at all.
one girl, pretty hot, came over and started talkin to me yesterday during lab. she said she failed the class...well she got a D in the Spring. looks pretty mature and intelligent, but apparently didnt study very much. yeah, u dont study for this class you might as well throw away your money. light it on fire, light yourself on fire and perform a magic trick.
4 hours a day plus class, gives me something to do at work.
boooooom.
kings in the bag. eh. that beetle gets like 28 mpg. this prius has mroe expensive insurance, but its a much nicer car. $120 to come up and back man, thats all I gotta say. would have been 180-200 in the beetle. heather drives home once a month, save another 50 smackers or so, pays the insurance.
yeah i saw the devils won at like 10 am, i didn't even care to look it up. doesn't matter, Kings have it. if the Kings don't win, it's either 'cause it's , injuries, suspensions, or a combination of both. I dont' even care. maybe i'll watch teh finals a bit, we'll see. I've been focusing all of my free time at work to doing homework so i can enjoy the outdoors.
woke up at 830, Mike came over around then but i laid in bed 'til 910. too tired. he started messing around with the toilet I guess, then i woke up and we just started putting it back together, the one in the basement, that is. By 4 pm we had it up and running. Not hard, just takes the right equipment and some elbow grease. cost $50. that's nothing compared to a handyman . Bein' a handyman, you could make a ton of money. Anyway, can only pee in it or else the sewage will back up again. fine with me. just need to fix the basement door so it will actually open (it's jammed from the heat, i guess it's a sawdust door, no idea wtf anyone would put that on. probably 'cause it's really cheap, but it doesn't even work).
got emily's A/C working in her car. stopped working a few weeks ago. cost $22 for a can of some kind of gas, works like a charm now. you could have fixed heather's car for $22, saved the money on a new car but you get good gas mileage.
your Vulcan has much higher acceleration than my bike (i rode mine, Mike rode yours).. Mike said mine's faster, but I don't know, we never went above 70.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/24/2012 04:02:00 PM
woke up at 830, Mike came over around then but i laid in bed 'til 910. too tired. he started messing around with the toilet I guess, then i woke up and we just started putting it back together, the one in the basement, that is. By 4 pm we had it up and running. Not hard, just takes the right equipment and some elbow grease. cost $50. that's nothing compared to a handyman . Bein' a handyman, you could make a ton of money. Anyway, can only pee in it or else the sewage will back up again. fine with me. just need to fix the basement door so it will actually open (it's jammed from the heat, i guess it's a sawdust door, no idea wtf anyone would put that on. probably 'cause it's really cheap, but it doesn't even work).
got emily's A/C working in her car. stopped working a few weeks ago. cost $22 for a can of some kind of gas, works like a charm now. you could have fixed heather's car for $22, saved the money on a new car but you get good gas mileage.
your Vulcan has much higher acceleration than my bike (i rode mine, Mike rode yours).. Mike said mine's faster, but I don't know, we never went above 70.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/23/2012 07:09:00 PM
dang, Phillip Phillips won American Idol. the Dave Matthews clone. Cool kid. I wonder if he ever really felt like he had the talent to win. Every time he played, he always looked like "hey, I'm just doin' what I always do, playin' my guitar and havin' fun." The other contestants were obviously trying to win. He'll defintely go far - he's got the talent and he's definitely a great musician. I could see him being DMB-big down the road if he wanted.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/23/2012 07:09:00 PM
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/23/2012 04:06:00 PM
you know what would be the greatest magic trick of all time?set yourself on fire and then do the magic pull-a-sheet-over-the-scene, and BOOOOM walk out from the side of the area.someone pulls that off, I'm a believer.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/23/2012 04:06:00 PM
Re: [Madness Writers] RE: [Madness Writers] 5/23/2012 11:56:00 AM
savard got a too-many-men-onthe-ice penalty near the end of game 7 of the flyers-boston series ECF 2010. flyers scored on the PP, series over.
On Wed, May 23, 2012 at 3:23 PM, Madness <nayrrizdaed@gmail.com> wrote:
yeah, that picture has multiple stuns/upset fans in it. by far the best one i've seen, but I usually don't look at 'em.
I don't know what you mean by Savard in game 7. I don't know what he did. yeah, Richards was way worse than Cooke, but it didn't get the same notoriety because it was Richards who's considered more of a clean player than Cooke was at the time. Cooke basically had to change his style or get kicked outta the NHL and he realized that.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/23/2012 12:23:00 PM
Re: [Madness Writers] RE: [Madness Writers] 5/23/2012 11:56:00 AM
yeah, that picture has multiple stuns/upset fans in it. by far the best one i've seen, but I usually don't look at 'em.
I don't know what you mean by Savard in game 7. I don't know what he did. yeah, Richards was way worse than Cooke, but it didn't get the same notoriety because it was Richards who's considered more of a clean player than Cooke was at the time. Cooke basically had to change his style or get kicked outta the NHL and he realized that.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/23/2012 12:23:00 PM
RE: [Madness Writers] 5/23/2012 11:56:00 AM
I don't know what you mean by Savard in game 7. I don't know what he did. yeah, Richards was way worse than Cooke, but it didn't get the same notoriety because it was Richards who's considered more of a clean player than Cooke was at the time. Cooke basically had to change his style or get kicked outta the NHL and he realized that.
shoulders are messed up again. no idea man.
supposed to rain later today. i wasn't bringing my car though. gotta spend an extra 2 minutes to drive up the hill then 8 minutes to walk down, 10 minutes to walk up at the end of the day. i'd rather just park outside the hospital on my bike and be done with it, free parking baby.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/22/2012 02:14:00 PM
Interesting to know about tennis players. Would have guessed NFL or NBA players:It is gospel among sportswriters that, as a class, professional hockey players are by an order of magnitiude the least douchetastic of them all. (On the other end of the spectrum, if you're interested, are professional tennis players, who think themselves ill-used if the courtesy car is three minutes late.)
Read more: http://www.esquire.com/blogs/politics/shawn-thornton-gay-comments-9063325#ixzz1vdPqh5viI sent you a message earlier, not sure if you read it.. here it is again":You had a decent write-up of the flaws in the NHL series. One guy was like "You have high expectations". yeah, you should, after 20 years they should have this series perfected. No idea about fifa, not sure how you can really implement soccer skills. Looking at a video on youtube, looks like it did in 06 iwth that Fifa/Winning Eleven series. Boy is soccer boring, even the players just stand there for the most part.I saw Jimmy was playing Diablo III, already level 60, probably doesn't take. No interest. Hardcore would be the only way to play, probably, the only real challenge anyway.I was thinking of buying minecraft 'cause I think the single player is really long especially with mods. Plus, it would work on the laptop. Or maybe buying the Witcher. but I'd rather be outside. Ah, gay, the witcher wasn't on the 360, $40 for witcher 2. no interest.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/22/2012 02:14:00 PM
Read more: http://www.esquire.com/blogs/politics/shawn-thornton-gay-comments-9063325#ixzz1vdPqh5vi
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/20/2012 12:37:00 PM
It's 2 0 yotes.
looks like it's good to be (a) King. 1-0 within the first 2 minutes. see ya later, Yotes.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/20/2012 12:37:00 PM
wore my balaclava from my cycling days this morning, felt great. a thicker one would definitely work better so when I get the one on Wednesday, game over. Also, I forgot to close the two zippers that allow air in but I never felt cold. maybe around my socks, but not much i can do about that.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
- 31 lengths - Secretariat (1973)
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/19/2012 05:53:00 PM
yeah, terrible strategy by Bodemeister's team.$11 for a neck gator, plus it covers the head. perfect for winter, man. Emiliy will use it, too, I'm sure. what a steal.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/19/2012 05:53:00 PM
Re: [Madness Writers] 5/19/2012 03:39:00 PM
Dude, I missed the best horse race. The Preakness was on, I figured probably a 624 start time.. I walk into the patient's room at 627 'cause I forgot about the race and asked, "Who won?" The same horse from the Kentucky Derby. Same horse in 2nd.
I watched the replay, no way that horse should have won man. He was like 5 horse lengths behind the leader around the final turn and sprinted to beat the horse by a head. Then, they showed the whole race again from a helicopter view. That same horse led the whole race from the Kentucky Derby, the winner stayed in 3rd the whole time then just takes off like a jet down the final stretch.. the 2nd placer must have been losin' energy, 'cause no way it should have lost. It was at least 3 lengths ahead but probably closer to 5. The Kentucky Derby was a joke compared to this one. I gotta say, that would have been an awesome race to watch live. (Even during the first replay, I was like, "No way that horse is gonna win," even though I knew it was.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/19/2012 03:39:00 PM
I watched the replay, no way that horse should have won man. He was like 5 horse lengths behind the leader around the final turn and sprinted to beat the horse by a head. Then, they showed the whole race again from a helicopter view. That same horse led the whole race from the Kentucky Derby, the winner stayed in 3rd the whole time then just takes off like a jet down the final stretch.. the 2nd placer must have been losin' energy, 'cause no way it should have lost. It was at least 3 lengths ahead but probably closer to 5. The Kentucky Derby was a joke compared to this one. I gotta say, that would have been an awesome race to watch live. (Even during the first replay, I was like, "No way that horse is gonna win," even though I knew it was.
RE: [Madness Writers] Re: [Madness Writers] RE: [Madness Writers] Re: [Madness Writers] 5/19/2012 11:55:00 AM
As far as PA, I'd probably do that.. yeah, nursing you have to do actual physical labs which are pointles.
Re: [Madness Writers] RE: [Madness Writers] Re: [Madness Writers] 5/19/2012 11:55:00 AM
Wow, pretty lame on the incident. That punch earned you the ban, but you probably need the rest anyway. No interest is right. I'd probably be scared, too. Gotta do something to protect yourself.
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Posted By Madness to Madness Writers at 5/19/2012 12:49:00 PM