Premier Rock Forum

toomanyhelicopters wrote:howzabout a little spoKEN word here:

sitting through four hours of Hank doing his C and D material

JB: sitting through four hours of Hank doing his C and D material and getting to see one of the veins in his neck explode. He doesn't die, but he's crippled, can't speak or "sing," and the resultant depression finally forces him to come out of the closet.

JW: suffering through four hours of Hank doing his C and D material, while being sodomized by Bradley R. Weisenberger, who is singing the The Eagles' "Peaceful Easy Feeling" at the top of his lungs.

Now Obi Wan Kenobi this, young one:

Watching a set by a sucking band who shall remain nameless and realizing you cannot leave because yr ride is there hitting on a chick and wants you to hang as his "wingman." (The nameless band is Braid.)

Chris G wrote:Now Obi Wan Kenobi this, young one:

Watching a set by a sucking band who shall remain nameless and realizing you cannot leave because yr ride is there hitting on a chick and wants you to hang as his "wingman." (The nameless band is Braid.)

JB : peeing on an anthill

JW : watching a chick with braids sucking off a band... you're set to leave, but you realize you can't, because you remain homeless... all the while you're being hit on by a well-hung man with feathered hair who wants to ride you.

sleater kenny:
a corpse, a shovel, and several hours of back-breaking work

toomanyhelicopters wrote:sleater kenny:
a corpse, a shovel, and several hours of back-breaking work

Dude, I know yr near D.C. somewhere ... were you spying on me this weekend?

Anyhoo,

JB: a corpse, a shovel, several hours of back-breaking work and a fat fucking insurance policy naming yrs truly as the beneficiary. I'm rich beeyotch!

JW: a corpse, a shovel, several hours of back-breaking work and --- damn it all to hell -- blisters, because I forgot my gloves again.

Ken-L-Ration:

Coming home from a right savage booze-up to find that yr piece-of-shit cell phone, the kind that does not flip so that all the buttons are exposed, apparently dialed and dialed and repeat dialed someone in yr phone bk because the phone shared yr front right pocket with the car keys, the change and the bottle caps, which somehow scrolled through and punched SEND repeatedly. Said person is famous, irritable, and not a particularly close acquaintance, and you don't know whether calling to explain and apologize will make matters worse or what. Also you have diarrhea from the half-smokes at Ben's Chili Bowl.

toomanyhelicopters wrote:sleater kenny:
a corpse, a shovel, and several hours of back-breaking work

Dude, I know yr near D.C. somewhere ... were you spying on me this weekend?

Anyhoo,

JB: a corpse, a shovel, several hours of back-breaking work and a fat fucking insurance policy naming yrs truly as the beneficiary. I'm rich beeyotch!

JW: a corpse, a shovel, several hours of back-breaking work and --- damn it all to hell -- blisters, because I forgot my gloves again.

Ken-L-Ration:

Coming home from a right savage booze-up to find that yr piece-of-shit cell phone, the kind that does not flip so that all the buttons are exposed, apparently dialed and dialed and repeat dialed someone in yr phone bk because the phone shared yr front right pocket with the car keys, the change and the bottle caps, which somehow scrolled through and punched SEND repeatedly. Said person is famous, irritable, and not a particularly close acquaintance, and you don't know whether calling to explain and apologize will make matters worse or what. Also you have diarrhea from the half-smokes at Ben's Chili Bowl.

Chris G wrote:Ken-L-Ration:
Coming home from a right savage booze-up to find that yr piece-of-shit cell phone, the kind that does not flip so that all the buttons are exposed, apparently dialed and dialed and repeat dialed someone in yr phone bk because the phone shared yr front right pocket with the car keys, the change and the bottle caps, which somehow scrolled through and punched SEND repeatedly. Said person is famous, irritable, and not a particularly close acquaintance, and you don't know whether calling to explain and apologize will make matters worse or what. Also you have diarrhea from the half-smokes at Ben's Chili Bowl.

JB:Coming home and finding a wrong number call on your phone that says "MOBY," then asking your rommate: "what gives?" To which he informs you that Moby accidentally dialed the wrong number and had an awkward exchange with him about being Moby on the phone dialing a wrong number. You both then save the number and know that one day...one day when he least expects it...you can send a big box of fucking gizzards and necks and gristle and chitterlings and jugs of tallow to fucking Moby.

JW:You mess up and make one "attempt-to-contact" too many to yer new crush before getting it through your thick skull that she/he ain't interested, thereby blowing the chance to be aloof and mysterious and coming off as kind of a dope.

Release the KraKen!:
Having the lifelong bit of inking regret about being bad in the sack that one time with that one really gorgeous and charming person oh so many years ago.

Take these BroKen wings:
"Turkish Revenge," which is when someone runs up behind you, stabs you in the ass and runs away a la Randy Quaid in Midnight Express.


Young FranKenstein:
Being put in a body-hugging muslin sack and then buried in a pit of tarantulas whilst Harry Belafonte's "Day-O" plays ad infinitum.

Faiz

kerble wrote:Being put in a body-hugging muslin sack and then buried in a pit of tarantulas whilst Harry Belafonte's "Day-O" plays ad infinitum.

Just Better: "Hi! I'm Rosie O'Donnell! I'll be your new cellmate!"

Just Worse: You are a forty-five year old man. You used to play in a fairly noteworthy indie rock band. You're proud of what you have done, the manner in which you have conducted yourself in Rock, and the lifelong friends that Rock has brought to you. However, your Rock days have passed by you. You're okay with that. Your life has taken you away from The City, and you now live in Small Modest Suburb. You're okay with that, too.

One day you are driving in your car in Small Modest Suburb and listening to the local Top 40 radio station (e.g., "Z96", "The X"), if just for kicks. At the end of a song, the superenergized DJ (e.g., "Spike on the Mic", "Mikey B.") takes the mic and announces that Caller 11 is on the phone. He tells Caller 11 that "YOU'VE JUST WON FOUR TICKETS TO THE KID ROCK SHOW THIS SATURDAY NIGHT AT SAD SUBURBAN AMPHITHEATER!!!!! HEY, CALLER, THAT'S A HOT SHOW!!! WHAT'S YOUR NAME? WHERE ARE YOU CALLING FROM?" Caller 11 announces that her name is Ashley, and that she's 11 years old and lives in Small Modest Suburb. Holy shit! What a coincidence! You have a daughter named Ashley! She is 11 years old and she lives in Small Modest Suburb as well! What are the odds?

And then it hits you. You're going to see Kid Rock on Saturday night. With a couple of pre-teens.

That's what it has come to.

Kenny: Signore Kerble has previously prepared some splendid Kennies. Please help yourself to them.

Bradley R. Weissenberger wrote:Kenny: Signore Kerble has previously prepared some splendid Kennies. Please help yourself to them.

Just better: Signore Kerble has previously prepared some splendid hors d'oeuvres. Please help yourself to them.

Just worse: Signore Kerble has previously prepared some splendid photo essays where dogs and small children are sitting in buckets and/or dressed as bumblebees.

Bro Ken: You're a girl, your mom is still hotter than you're ever going to be, and its always a problem when you bring a boy over to the house.

the kenny: You're a girl, your mom is still hotter than you're ever going to be, and its always a problem when you bring a boy over to the house.

just better: your a girl, you kill your mom

just worse: your a guy, your mom is hotter than your sister will ever be, and its always a problem when you bring your girlfriend over to your house....

Kenny -

You wake up with a carbon copy of a contract, which includes being the session harpist for Yanni for the next 3 years, with your signature on the bottom.

Arson Smith wrote:

Bradley R. Weissenberger wrote:Kenny: Signore Kerble has previously prepared some splendid Kennies. Please help yourself to them.

Just better: Signore Kerble has previously prepared some splendid hors d'oeuvres. Please help yourself to them.

Just worse: Signore Kerble has previously prepared some splendid photo essays where dogs and small children are sitting in buckets and/or dressed as bumblebees.

Bro Ken: You're a girl, your mom is still hotter than you're ever going to be, and its always a problem when you bring a boy over to the house.

Mr. Smith made a very nice intercept/turnaround here that deserves recognition and applause.