pumped for this shit, you give me Bardem with some depressed role in a film and I’m fucking with it. If there is murder even better. Dude is dope and having the director of AmoresPerros doesn’t hurt either.
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ANIMAL CHIN
This Baltimore Club remix of “No Hands” is so old-school Nada and I can’t get enough of it. Dance floor banger / best birthday present I’ve gotten so far today. Listen and download immediately.
while this is dope I do wish nada had fucked with one of Waka’s more violent songs. I can’t really see myself punching people to that chorus, yeah blowjob songs are fun but unrestrained violence is way more fun. But yeah I’ll take more of this type of shit from nada over moombaton. Not that I hate that either but fast rowdy shit is more my speed.
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This is what I did yesterday. A tree had fallen on my parents roof so we had to repair the damaged boards and reinforce the damaged rafters. Fortunately that only required making braces rather than having to completely replace them, that would have fucking sucked. Also decided to strip the roof down since it already had 3 layers of old ass shingles anyways.
I’m only here for a week so we’ve decided to only complete the front half of the roof and leave the rear for the spring. My pop’s wants me to come back and do that but yeah I’m not doing that. Every time he says we I ask him if he’s french because everything is “we we we.”
Anyways the roof is now covered with saturated felt and tomorrow we’re suppose to start throwing up shingles but who knows he’s getting a cold and dragging ass so I have to pick it up. We’ll see though. I’m out on Wednesday and it’s suppose to rain that day so tomorrow is some crucial shit, motherfuckers better man up and work.
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These dudes really released one of the best albums in ‘10. Stop sleeping.
(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)
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this is why I fucking came home.
Notice the missing blanket of cheese? The homemade sauce of dried chilies? the thinness of it? It’s not some bullshit out of a fucking can. The tortillas are dipped in a spicy tomato sauce then fried in a pan. Chicken is already cooked and shredded, still hot when it is placed in a just fried tortilla and rolled. The edge of the tortilla is just barely beginning to brown leaving a crunchy ring while the rest remains soft with spicy tomato flavors cooked right in to it. Topped with that sprinkle of queso fresco. I took this picture before I topped it off with some onions that had been soaked in lime juice.
Do you even begin to understand why this is so fucking good? You are lucky if you find this in a fucking restaurant. This is a fucking enchilada motherfucker. This is what makes mexican food, fucking details. Not just fucking 1+2+3 slop on a plate with cheese and mexi sauce. This is shit that you will almost never seen a cook book, shit you have to be fucking taught and that you have to perfect. The craziest part is that for all the shit I give my mother she still doesn’t realize just how talented she is at this. I can’t do it and she whipped these up like it’s fucking nothing.
as much as I hate coming home these make it worth it, hands down the best shit my mom ever fucking makes.
yes I’m reblogging myself but man there is a fucking point. If you know me and you have ever talked to me about food chances are I have told you about this.
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This was my work bench today. Told my dad he better fucking pay me for coming down and reroofing their fucking house. Motherfucker owes me big on this one.
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Consider the way that music—notably, in America, jazz and hip-hop—developed both distinct regional flavours as well as an overarching hybrid style. Some may prefer, say, New Orleans jazz to the less regional schools of bebop or free jazz, but nobody would seriously argue for the superiority of one over the other. It is comforting to believe in the purity of isolation, and to believe that good barbecue exists only in a remote tarpaper shack, or in obscure blues clubs in Memphis, but it is a fiction. Barbecue, like jazz, develops from conversation, from talking and listening, from eating and thinking.
Barbecue and American culture: Fire in the hole | The Economist (via desnoise)
Mmmm…I think he’s off in the “overarching hybrid style” aspect as it applies to “hip hop,” and the fact that people interested in this music do argue regularly (and vehemently) over the superiority of one artist, record, track, etc., over another. (See, i.e., “true school” types and most blawg commentors.)
But agree that hip hop develops from conversation, talking and listening. Just not sure that’s by people on the Internet.
-SM
(via spaceagehustle)
All I know is that I’m excited to read anything about barbecue and hiphop, even if it’s really about jazz
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only one of these objects belongs to me