Simms testified that his job was to unload BMF’s cocaine from limos outfitted with secret compartments. He said he piled as many as 100 “bricks” of cocaine at a time inside the basement of one of BMF’s stash houses, an ultra-modern Buckhead mansion nicknamed “Space Mountain.” And he said that on one occasion, in the fall of 2004, he was ordered by high-ranking BMF members Chad “J-Bo” Brown and Martez “Tito” Byrth to set aside multi-kilo cocaine “shipments” for two customers. Simms said the customers picked up the coke from him at Space Mountain.
When asked by assistant U.S. Attorney Robert McBurney who the customers were, Simms gave two names: William “Doc” Marshall, a high-level BMF co-conspirator who testified earlier in the trial, and “Jeezy.”
“Never wear suede shoes, because one day, Michael, you’ll be taking a piss, and the guy next to you will recognize you, and he’ll turn toward you and say, ‘Michael Caine!’ and piss all over your shoes.”—John Wayne’s advice to a then-upcoming Michael Caine (link)
“Basically, my strategy is: Put on the most embarrassing, undignified, pathetic, weird-looking outfit that you can find and then try to act like you have a lot of integrity.”— Thomas Lennon on his comedy (link)
I’m not sure if this is the logo for the entire originals by originals line or just Kazuki's subline. Either way, this is super ill. I don't know the fancy design terms (deconstruction? Monica, help), but this just struck me as great design.
Kazuki is HF’s right hand man at fragment as well as consulting for the top streetwear labels including NBHD, Visvim, w)taps, Silly Thing and Clot. A little bit of talent + knowing HF = success. Usually the talent and work is the most important, but in this case knowing HF is at least half the equation.
This fiscal period, I am flirting with Jane. Jane is new in the Art Department and not quite sure whether I mean it or not. She is just a few years out of college, where she majored in fine arts, and still finds things in the city daring, sophisticated, and intellectual. She goes to the movies a lot. She has not, I think, slept with a married man yet.
Jane is assistant head of the Art Department in Green’s department. There are only three people in the Art Department. She has, like the rest of us, much time in which to brood and fantasize and make personal phone calls and kid around with whoever in the company (me) wants to kid around with her. She has a tall, slim figure that’s pretty good and a clogged duct in one eye that makes it dribble with tears. She wears loose lamb’s-wool sweaters that hug the long points of her small breasts beautifully. (Often, my fingertips would love to hug and roll those same long points of her small breasts just as beautifully, but I know from practice that my desire would not remain with her breasts for long. They make a convenient starting place.) Her good figure, prominent nipples, and clogged tear duct give me an easy opening for suggestive wisecracks that cover the same ground as those I used to exchange with that older girl Virginia under the big Western Union clock in the automobile casualty insurance company (the company is still in business after all these years, at the same place, and probably the clock too is still there, running, although the office building is now slated to come down), except that now I am the older, more experienced (and more jaded) one and can control and direct things pretty much the way I choose. I have the feeling now that I can do whatever I want to with Jane, especially on days when she’s had two vodka martinis for lunch instead of one (I, personally, hate vodka martinis and mistrust the mettle of people who drink them) or three whiskey sours instead of two. I could, if I wished, take her out for three vodka martinis after work one day and then up to Red Parker’s apartment nearby, and the rest, I’d bet, would be as easy as pie (and possibly no more thrilling). I can make Jane laugh whenever I want to, and this, I know, can be worth more than half the game if I decide I seriously do want to play, but I’m not sure either whether I mean it or not.
Probably, I should be ashamed of myself, because she’s only a decent young girl of twenty-four. Possibly I should be proud of myself, because she is, after all, a decent and very attractive young girl of only twenty-four whom I can probably lay whenever I want to. (I have her scheduled vaguely somewhere ahead, probably in the weeks before the convention, when I will be using everybody in the Art Department a great deal.) I don’t really know how I am supposed to feel. I do know that girls in their early twenties are easy and sweet. (Girls in their late twenties are easier but sad, and that isn’t so sweet.) They are easy, I think, because they are sweet, and they are sweet, I think, because they are dumb.
On days when I’ve had two martinis for lunch, Jane’s breasts and legs can drive me almost wild as she parks her slender ass against the wall of one of the narrow corridors in the back offices near the Art Department when I stop to kid with her. Jane smiles a lot and is very innocent (she thinks I’m a very nice man, for example), although she is not, of course, without some sex experience, about which she boasts laughingly when I taunt her with being a virgin and denies laughingly when I taunt her with being a whore. I make teasing, rather mechanical and juvenile jokes (I’ve made them all before to other girls and ladies in one variation or another) about her eye or sweater or the good or bad life I pretend she is leading as I lean down almost slavering toward the front of her skirt (I don’t know how she can bear me in these disgusting moments — but she can) and gaze lecherously over the long stretch of her thighs underneath, even though I know already I would probably find her legs a little thin when I had her undressed and would probably describe her as a bit too skinny if I ever spoke about her afterward to anyone.
I think I really do like Jane a lot. She is cheerful, open, trusting, optimistic — and I don’t meet many of those anymore. Till now, I’ve decided to do nothing with her except continue the lascivious banter between us that tickles and amuses and encourages us both. Maybe her face and her figure are a little too good. I used to like girls who were tall and heavy, and slightly coarse, and maybe I still do, but I seem to be doing most of my sleeping these days with girls who are slim and pretty and mostly young. My wife is tall and slim and used to be very pretty when she was young.