I woke up Saturday morning with a burning desire to get out of town. So I hopped in my car and drove home to Virginia. It’s been a great, relaxing, and much needed vacation. Made prank calls Saturday night, went kayaking Sunday morning with one of my best friends from childhood, and picked up my Southern accent the moment I got here. Unfortunately for you people, I also leave the accent here when I return to the city. Too bad. You’d love it. Anyways, so I’m a little late with the set lists for our guest DeeJays, which I’ll have up on Monday. I’ll also get the basketball tourney brackets up as soon as possible. Winner gets a $50 from your tournament basketball headquarters, Barristers. And I think we might have a lot of fun this week as well, but first I gotta talk to my lawyer. Hope everybody had a great weekend. Gotta roll. Grey’s Anatomy is on.

Gin and Juice, by missing every single question in the final round, took home one of the most kickass last place prizes ever, Lionel Richie’s debut self titled album. When Johnny bought the album, he had no idea that it also contained a schweeeet centerfold (above, you might wanna click on it just to see how kickass it is). Also at the Bards, Ryan celebrated his birthday last night (below). Finally, I’ll be posting the set lists of our three contestants in the “You be the DJ” contest as soon as I get a set list from Kirt. So hopefully before I’ll have it sometime this weekend..

Shots For Everyone
Due to a camera malfunction, everyone on the website week didn’t become a reality for the people at the Dive last week. But this week, there were no camera glitches. Except for the fact that all of the pictures indicate that they were taken the day before Valentine’s Day. But other than that they came out great. Shots for Everyone came out great as well, knocking off their competition handily.

Grant Beats the South

Teet Doctor

Team Spirit

For a Shinier Card Say Yes

Yeah, so the American baseball team lost to Canada yesterday in the World Baseball Classic, which is essentially the equivalent, I think, of the Canadians capturing Minnesota by military force. I mean, Canada? I could understand the Dominican Republic, or Argentina, or even Cuba, but Canada? In a game that took place in America? That’s like us kicking their ass at curling in a match in the Yukon. It should never happen. Alright, well I gotta take my roommate to the airport, but I’ll be back this afternnon with some pics from this week (including those at the Dive!).

Yo peeps, got an email from Clare earlier describing the DJ stylistics you can expect from her at the Black Sheep later tonight. Here goes.
Peel back the Brooks Brothers surface of an accountant and you’ll find a perv inside; Scratch an editor and you’ll find a suburban Sid Vicious underneath. The slightly tan, smiling woman in the earth-tone top in the accompanying photo bears little resemblance to the merciless financial editor with the jet-black hair who’ll be playing sternum-crushing dance-punk, nasty (sexy) indie jams and classic party anthems alongside divas like Kylie Minogue, Madonna, and Nine
Inch Nails. (Yes, Trent Reznor is too a diva.)

Am I the only one who thinks the story of the peppy cheerleader is completely assinine, or am I just a bitter cynic who’s had a bad month and can’t spell assinine? I mean, I like the Beach Boys song, “Be True to Your School” as much as anybody, but the sight of a cheerleader doing her freaking cheer in a stretcher just struck me as completely stupid. I mean, when they put you in a stretcher, isn’t it because you aren’t supposed to move around b/c you might aggravate your injuries? Is this garbage what’s passing for inspiration these days? Super peppy cheerleaders who risk serious injury to scream “Plop-plop, fizz-fizz, Ooooh, what a relief it is”?

“I’m still a cheerleader — on a stretcher or not,” Yamaoka told the Today show while wearing a neck brace. So I guess if I get in a bad car crash and am being wheeled off on a stretcher, I should ask the paramedics if they know who the last Whig president was, because “I’m still a quizmaster–on a stretcher or not.” Fine, so I’m just a bitter cynic who’s had a bad month and can’t spell assinine.

Jam Master Sean (aka C. Urbanus), Johnny’s brother in arms at the Dive and notorious local rock paper scissors enthusiast, was quoted on the front page of the Wall Street Journal recently. Seems that things are turning a little ugly in the world of RPS.

Alright, it’s off to study my Spanish. Holla at you in the afternoon, knuckleheads! Oh, and there is one more spot available for DeeJaying. The Locust Rendezvous. Send me an email (johnny@johnnygoodtimes.com) if you wanna play your ipod there.
RELATED: Johnny hosts RPS Spectacular.

Hey gang, just asking you to take ten seconds to send a postcard to our president and tell him that he needs to do something to stop the genocide in Sudan. Here’s more info on the one man army (uh, no, not Bush) who is trying to make a change.

Wow! Barry Bonds gets grilled by Sports Illustrated about his steroid use this week. They are taking an excerpt from a forthcoming book called Game of Shadows. Here’s hoping it urges this worthless piece of trash to retire before breaking one of the most hallowed records in all of sports, Hank Aaron’s career home run total. This makes his chase for the record an absolute nightmare for Major League Baseball, if it wasn’t already. They let the steroid thing slide for so long, because home runs brought people back to baseball after the strike, but now it’s really coming back to bite them in the ass.
RELATED: Audio Interview with author’s of explosive book.

Whose Aunt Mimi once said, “The guitar’s all very well, but you’ll never make a living out of it”?