KILL! BOY! KILL! First official flyer..

It's COMING people, and it's COMING all OVER YOU!

All the information you need is splashed across the 6 year old.

Both your support and your backlash are equally welcome.

With Carnival giving us its Swan Song this Wednesday night, all the denizens of the evening mid-week crowd will need a new place to get dirty, see, and be seen.

And this is it.

If I know you, I expect you here. Look for our ad on the inside cover of the next issue of NEXT Magazine.

Just please don't break the mannequins... and if you continue to support then maybe I'll bring you a DEXTER themed week.... but only if you are on your best behavior.

A Few Thoughts on Katy Perry

I'm not going to give a tremendous come-to-Jesus talk on Katy Perry, but I feel like it is my moral duty as a citizen of the world to make an official statement.

She is a TERRRRIBLE singer.

And if that is not the case, then she is just flat out a terrible live vocal performer. In addition, I don't really understand her concept, how she is supposed to be packaged and sold to consumers so that we buy into it. The music business likes to create a tapestry of little pockets, with each member of the community fitting easily into their own little ones.

Pink? The Rock chick. We get it. We like it.

Gwen Stefani? Funky, fresh, synth heavy sweetie.

Beyonce? The diva. (as much as I do hate her too)

Lady Gaga? Puts on a suit of armor to go to the corner deli. Sketchy. Whatever.

But WHO is KATY PERRY supposed to be?

I don't get the blue hair and the lollipops and the I-have-a-dick-in-my-ass-whoopsie! expression she always has on her face. What is her compartment? And why does she look exactly like Zooey Deschanel?

She has publicly admitted to never actually even kissing a girl, LET alone liking it.

Listen, I like her new album. It is catchy and has some great songs for what they are, but they are saturated with autotune to make it good and you know what? FINE! just please please someone stop letting that bitch perform live. It is a repeat offense and it just keeps happening again and again. Britney Spears, as well as her people, know better than to let THAT bitch open her fucking mouth live. They just basically got her to the point where she just has to shut the FUCK up, wobble around the stage, and put the 'former' in the word performer.

Katy Perrys people won't tell her the truth and so those motherfuckers gotta sit back and watch their PROACTIV Candyland cash cow struggle through notes with a pain not too unlike a breached birth.

I know everyone is gonna rush to her defense and you are probably all thinking, yeah, Joshua, like you could do any better. But I know I can't. I don't try. I stick to my known talents like manipulating the truth and trying to become the next great American novelist, and my lesser known talents like befriending people on the registered sex offenders list and then having tremendous underage fetish parties in my apartment.

She just can't do it live is all Im saying. Nothing less or more. Again, I like Teenage Dream. I think she is pretty. I am sure she is a nice broad like the rest of them. It's only the live performance issue I am bitching about. So don't get your fucking panties in a wad and think I'm being a cunt. Because you know what?

YOU ALL ARE CUNTS.

And I can't deal with it anymore.

First official flyer for KILL! BOY! KILL! will go viral by morning and will be on the inside cover of the next issue of Next Magazine.

You'll know it when you see it because a six year old little beauty queen will be smiling at you from the poster with the most succulent little ruby red lips.

Kiss kiss.


- joshua

Location:Ellery St,Brooklyn,United States

In Loving Memory

I spent the day on the phone trying to find broken mannequins and funeral guest books and it was far more difficult than I could have imagined.

I am trying to find all the necessary supplies I need to complete my vision for the JonBenet Ramsey theme of our weekly party, Kill Boy Kill, which starts on December 8th.


First off, doesn't anybody speak English anymore? Second off, why isn't your manager there... It's a business day? Third, I'm not sure why you are telling me about your unexpected swine flu experience while I'm holding for your pricing screen to pop up, but I like it and you have my sympathy.

I got some lady on the phone at a childrens clothing store who sounded exactly like Angela from The Office - so much so that I had to ask her for her name to make sure. It was KIMBERLY.

I tell Kimberly I needed a mannequin. Hilarity ensues.

ME: I need a mannequin. Child sized. Maybe 3 of them actually.

KIMBERLY: What age?

ME: 6, female.

KIMBERLY: Now, are you looking for something that is more of a bendable type child? Or fiberglass? We have both.

ME: A bennndable chilllld??

KIMBERLY: yes sir.

ME: I am not sure, but bendable sounds nice. And they can be broken. They are for personal use, not a store window or anything. Cheap cheap. As long as they are little girl sized I'm all about it. And if they can bend, as you say, that might be easier to get the clothes on and off.

Pause.

KIMBERLY: ok.

Pause

ME: yeah.

Pause

KIMBERLY: (hangs up)

I eventually found someone who will accommodate me without judgment of my presumed sexual proclivities with underaged plastic dolls, and that is another reason New York is a special place.

I called up a funeral home to find a guest book for the party foyer. More hilarity ensues.

ME: I'm looking for a funeral guest book for people to sign and write comments.

GUY: ok. What kind?

ME: it's for a little girl. About 6 years old.

GUY: I'm sorry to hear that.

ME: it's really ok. But thank you.

GUY: do you need it for this Saturday?

ME: No. Not until December 8th.

*pause*

GUY: umm, that is almost... 3 weeks away, sir.

ME. Ya.

GUY: I... Well, I mean... That's a fairly long time to plan a funeral, right?

ME: I guess. I mean, she's been dead for years.

GUY: And only now do you need a guest book.

ME: yep.

*pause*

GUY: we're open until six tonight.


- joshua

Location:Ellery St,Brooklyn,United States

K. I. L. L.
B. O. Y.
K. I. L. L.
I. S.
C. O. M. I. N. G.
S. O. O. N.....






- joshua

D a r k T w i s t e d C i t y

*taps mic*

Now that I have taken a cigarette break that lasted two years and three months, I would like to welcome everyone back.

I'm not very interested in recapping the psychotic, emotional saga that led to me originally cancelling this blog shortly before I moved to New York in 2008, but I'm glad I did stop it.

Why?

Because I sounded like a little fucking TWAT in all my previous posts.

So stupid.

Last night me and Andres were walking down Eighth Avenue and he said he had a feeling that it would be one of those nights where a lotta of really weird FUCKED up kinda shit happened. We started at Vlada because I could get drinks for free tonight and just began throwing drinks down our throat like it was our job or something, and I mixed tequila and whiskey. Not in the same drink, but I didn't rule that out for a single second.

There was this drag queen named Logan doing a show who was a cunt to me last week at a bar and thought she be a complete asshole and then just say ohhhh don't be so sennnnsitive, like its our fucking problem when she insults you and wrecks your night. She decided to do her show by the front door so she could assault everyone who walked in and out, calling them fat, ugly, poor, or whatever she felt like. I will admit that I thought she was twisted and hilarious, so long as it wasn't about me.

And although I dont give a FUCK what LOGAN'S ROADHOUSE would have to say to me, Andres and I decided to get drunk and stay in the back until she was done. She got into a fight with a middle aged business man in the middle of her show and it got really awkward and serious for about twenty minutes and after that it wasn't so hard to make an escape. There was another drag queen who smelled like BO also and I was about to puke in any event.

We cabbed it downtown to The Box so I could cover the event for the nightlife blog I write for, and outside was an array of rail-thin, black-clad East Village ninjas with shifty eyelined peepers and Parliament Lights. We got inside and saw Ari Gold and Kenny Kenny and the usual ringamarole, none of which compared to the individual with boobs and a dick growling around on the stage with a leather, spiked piece of underwear. Then this individual began swinging that dick e'er which way and pissing all over the stage and I wondered how much of this was actually happening. A contortionist came out and started folding herself up like a bath towel and then we left.

We went to the BR and as usual it was dark and sketchy and there was this weird, drunk man who wouldnt leave us alone so I pried Andres away from finding the love of his life and then we went around the corner and ran into some sketchy people with a profession I won't mention and then went into this bar with them that was closed, but not closed for us. More free drinks and other party favors and then to my surprise it got later and later because apparently that happens.

Eventually Andres thought some of the sketchy guys we were hanging around were gonna gangbang this girl that somehow entered the picture in the course of the evening like a character in the Wizard of Oz but I was like she shouldn't be hanging around sketchy dudes in a closed bar with people she doesnt know if she doesn't have strict plans of getting gangbanged, so I convinced him it was a good idea to leave and just let her fend for herself. Hopefully she's not in the back of a trash truck somewhere.

I needed some fucking sleep so I could get up not looking like I'm 30 and feeling like shit, not to mention do a decent write-up about The Box and have a successful workout the following day.

I fell asleep as soon as I got on the J and ended up in Jamaica Center which, for those of you who aren't familiar with nyc, is about as far away from Manhattan as the Carribean Jamaica itself. I felt rested and alert because I had gotten a really intense power nap where I must have gone through probably two REM cycles, then I got on some bus because I was so far out from home I just didn't even care where I went anymore, and someone on the bus said something about East New York. Some kids got on the bus to go to school and I passed out again.

Eventually I ended up at Broadway Junction in Brooklyn somehow, which I actually could place on a map if I had to because I had been there several times before, even though I barely escaped gunfire pop pop pop pop pop every time i went there. Hopped the j train YET again and it went to Myrtle instead of my stop so I just gave up and got out and hopped into a cab wondering why I hadn't done that in the first place.

Then I got a few more hours of sleep (at home, not in the cab, although the cab driver did actually have to wake me up too) and got up to do my write up and then work.

Got a meeting tonight about a really exciting new weekly event I'm involved with. I will give you three words to describe it, with more details later. KILL BOY KILL. And it involves JonBenet Ramsey, so I'm beside myself with excitement. And I have a feeling I am going to get some delicious baked macaroni and cheese and go to bed with a smile on my face,

...and what could possibly be better than a combination of JonBenet Ramsey and baked mac'n'cheese?

Fucking tell me.