Hellfish Bonanza

Scott. Toronto. Punk. Beer.
Doolittle era Pixies now. If the clientele wasn’t such utter dogshit I’d be so down with this place.

Doolittle era Pixies now. If the clientele wasn’t such utter dogshit I’d be so down with this place.

There’s people older than my fucking parents here who are just disgusting shit your pants hold on to the ground so you don’t fall off the earth hammered right now and just NO stop it.

This bar is playing so many Clash songs but it’s weird cause it’s spliced with like Taylor Swift and REM and a whole strange range of shit.

alysoncoletta:

knowledgeandlove:

videohall:

Husky dog performs her overly dramatic death trick.

I’ve wasted fifteen minutes of my life watching this 8 second long video. 

omfg i want this dog.

(via shutup-logan)

King of Minneapolis, Pts. III and IV - Bomb The Music Industry! 

My god, I woke up on the floor of a famous Minneapolis rapper whose name will go unmentioned. I didn’t crush the cat, no one wrote “dick” on my forehead. I wasn’t seeing stars, I was seeing cigarettes and 1990’s compact discs. I didn’t even feel depressed like every other day that I wake up.

I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I would trade it for way less, just a parking spot and a place to call my home. I’m always waking up hating that life aint perfect, despite what they say, my mistakes aren’t worth it, but fuck it, I got through today, I can get through tomorrow. 

We lost a tire but we put it back on, I lost the love of my life, holy shit, I got a better one. I lost a couple of my favourite shirts and favourite friends, I lost my favourite band. I feel like I have lost my mind and people tell me “this is fine”, still, I feel shitty every time I try to fucking fall asleep at night.

I wouldn’t trade it for the world, I would trade it for way less, just a parking spot and a place to call my home. I’m always making mistakes that are never worth it, despite what they say I hate that life aint perfect, but fuck it, I got through today, I’ve got a few tomorrows.

And every day I wake and smile but by day’s end my smile subsides, but I guess I’ll be here a while and I’ll smile through today cause last night I didn’t die. 

And I know I’m not dead because I just threw up in my own mouth and swallowed back, this hangover aint that bad. 

I feel worse just about every day, but James Brown must have sparked a change, somewhere in our dialogue about sleep, hardcore, and not being young.

Got it drilled in my leg, because I fucked my head, when I’m all alone I will always have one friend.

When I wish I was dead and I hate my friends, I must repeat this till the end: I still have a home even if my home’s a van. 

My headphones broke :(