Money $hot: STOP, HAMMER TIME!

GOOGLE MY EYES: Camille Escobedo, Che Phawker, November 18th into 19th, 2006


Scene: Saturday night, Valaniaville. I’m sitting by the bar watching the dude from Beretta 76 do this insane Crispin Glover impression, and wondering why there seem to be so many wigs on hand. Good party, good buzz, meeting excellent new people.

Elizabeth Fiend turns to me and says, “So apparently we need to choose a team.”

“Why?” I say. “Is there an Olympics about to break out?”

“No, for the feud.”

“The feud? What? oh, that feud. Are you fucking kidding me? I refuse to choose.”

“No, apparently we can’t do that. I’m told it’s ‘oh, you’re playing both sides then.'”

Look, people. Listen up because this will be the one and only time I ever go there on this subject. I’m on Phawker because Valania seems to like my writing, (sometimes) trusts my judgment and doesn’t get pissy when I tell him he’s wrong. Also? He makes outstanding iced tea. Dude is a quality individual.

As for Sweeney, I’m not even on Philebrity per se, but we’re definitely cool, despite the fact that I tell him when I think he’s full of shit. And you know I tell him. I like Joey and Ruth, and I intend to be friends with them. For me, there simply is no issue, and there will be no choosing.

Do I like it when they try to rip each others’ throats out? Of course not, but for the love of Wook, Jon and Joey have known each other a hell of a lot longer than they’ve known me. So whatever\’s between them is not for me to judge or fix, because 1.) I’m not their mother (though they certainly fight like brothers) and 2.) those two both know exactly what the hell they’re doing.

I Luv Them All Like Children & Beat Them Like Dead Horses

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