12hours for infamy

2:13pm: Sportie LA calls about the Yo! MTV Raps. They're in. They're on hold. To get em I have to burn to LA.

3:26pm: Soulrane gets the call. It's me. I'm in hysterics. I needed a new change of pants because I got the news I was hoping for all week. He's down. We're ready to burn and widen the ozone hole. LA is an imperative.

3:48pm: Traffic getting on the 15. So far and I'm already sweating. Deadline till Sportie LA closes is 4 hours and 22minutes.

4:13pm: On the phone fishing for buyers in the Melrose area. We come up horribly short but with contacts to people pretty far up the HipHop food chain. Poe1 got the call to grab our kicks before the spot closed. He however never got back to us. I'm trying to keep it together for the betterment of upper GI track and the shitty upholstery on my '02 civic.

5:36pm: Baker. Gas. $13 Beefjerky. Vitamin Water. Gone.

6:38pm: We're ass deep in kittens as I'm sweating felines and stinking up the car with beefjerky/nervous farts over making the close time. Bob Marley comes on the radio. Everything Is Gunna' Be Alright...so says the guy who died of cancer.

7:24pm: We're in L.A. officially. I'm still farting kittens and Soul's getting the haps for afterwards on the record. We're slotted to meet Dani at her crib then grab some food. The thought of eating at this point induces uncontrollable flatulence. I seriously pity Soul's nostrils. We're doing 90+. A mission. We acknowledge to the clerk at Sportie LA that, yes, we know we're fucking crazy.

8:06pm: Soul's in the spot. I'm parking the shivic(shitty civic). I somehow can't recall anything within the span of the last ten minutes as I illegally park and brave retarded melrose traffic. Full body casts be damned. I'm getting the fucking shoes.

8:07pm: They're on the counter waiting for me. The box a lexicon for everything right in the twisted little world. They're a beacon of hope that advertises for me not to doubt the desire and will of another human being to brave insane traffic fines, possible death and definite intestinal problems if the drive to obtain is truly strong within. I ignore the dunks, the Adidas, the priceless vintage Pro-Keds and I bomb ass of teakettle to pay. They're in the bag. I'm getting some fucking pizza. Your Tuesday never knew that kind of acceleration.

9-12am: We fart around LA. Video doc to come.

the MTV PUMA trip.

Add to My Profile | More Videos