Consider my raw demeanor the icing on the cake, I'm grindin'.

I just realized that after I changed my screenname on Twitter from justinhell to justinwarfield, I neglected to change the link on my blog as well.

The result of this act of neglect on my part was a stream of tweets from an individual with my old screenname who felt compelled to share the following sentiments with the world....

"recovering from a crazy weekend...party, practice, and so much bro love hahaha" - about 2 hours ago

"fuck blink played tonight but i got there too late!!!" - 2 days ago

"fuck T-mobile!!!!! ughhhh"- 3 days ago

Riveting. Needless to say I am going to change the link so that it mirrors MY twitter account, lest you think I turned into a serious Blink fan, and I don't mean Gladwell.

Substitute Goobers for chocolate covered pieces of evil your people call raisins, and this could be the perfect meal.

I fucking miss these.

A Gallup poll conducted earlier this year shows that only 39% of Americans believe in Evolution. 

Sweet.

The Sunset Fairfax yard. 

Classic.

I used to live a few blocks away in the hills above, and would often visit while this piece was running. 

I still think it's one of the best "Letters" pieces I've ever seen in LA.

Rise, KSN.

And the accompanying character. I've never been much of a "Character" guy, but besides being indicative of the time (I'm guessing 88'-89') the chrome on the rearview, the blacked out sky behind, and just the clean lines and style in general made it kill. 

That, and it was done by Rev, KSN.

It was just my wife's birthday. 

Her dear friend and I threw a huge surprise party for her, it was a rager, and I'm not the rager type. 

When I was 11 and this film came out, I knew that when I finally found my girl, I wanted it to feel just like this picture, and nothing less than a Julie of my own would do. 

On our wedding day, after we were pronounced man and wife, we kissed, and "Melt With You" played.

Beyond.

Thanks to an interview with 4Q Max in Street Chopper Magazine, I learned of Dave Mann. 

I'm in.

It ain't nothin' like black pussy on my dick, word to the motherfucker DJ Quick.

I've been waiting for someone to do a skateboard shoe that was basically a Wino.

Nice one, Angel. 

These are ridic, super comfy, skateable as fuck, and they look like you are going to beat somebody down. I'd expect nothing less from a guy with "Game Over" tattooed across his eyelids. They've been doing shoe launches for this and TK's new banger. Check the Supra link to the right for details (and a pretty lame video cameo from yours truly at the party @ Factory 413).

Oh yeah, I'll spare you the 3rd appearance in photo form and just tell you that I finally got the new Dylan Reider Capezio/Repetto rips, and they kill. Back to Winos and gum rubber.

Speaking of gangster. My little dude looking like Bobby D. in Mean Streets. This is on my mom's bday at this fully legit pizza place next to the gayest movie theater in all of Los Angeles. No, I'm not being a dick, that's their claim to fame. It's the Regent  Showcase on La Brea, and there's literally a sign that's like, "come out here". Anyway, I'm down for that, but the point is Verrazano's next door is full NYC style. Great whole pies, and slices as well. Good people. Try the sausage roll. No pun intended.

You know how when you aim your video camera at the TV screen it bugs the fuck out? Well, I wanted to see what would happen when my wife and I ichatted and pointed the laptops at one another. Contrary to my calculations, there were no disruptions in the space time continuum, although Mercury is in retrograde now. Coincidence?

File under : Remakes always blow.

I need.

Project. 56' Triumph Trophy bird. Status: Don't ask.

I started working on the minor aesthetics so I don't lose my mind, so for now I'm getting everything down to raw metal and plan on leaving it in it's natural state. 

Here's the Wassell after 10 minutes of fine grain sandpaper love.

I've been thinking of giving it a mild Frisco, nothing too steep, just a little nudge. Then again, I've had crazy visions of weirdo with this thing lately, like throwing a hardtail on it, Z Bars with risers, a springer, you name it. That's what happens when a bike sits and you're not riding it.

I took some parts to a powder coating place to have the chrome stripped.

That gas cap used to be lame as shit. Now it's patina is off the charts.

It's the little things. (Like that vintage Webco rocker box oil manifold)

Bates headlamp assembly, stripped raw. So ridiculous.

Next the upper and lower triple trees and upper fork legs are gonna get hit.

Even this budg 70's octagonal  oil bag looks sick after the econo chopper chrome got later'd.

I know, the moto pictures suck, but what do you expect? I shot them on my Blackberry.

I should probably carry a camera around, but that would require me to think and plan ahead, and if I do that, then how will Stefanie get all the great candids of Bowie that go down throughout the day?

But I digress....

So now if we can just mount the seat and fender, pull the front end, throw on some MCM's, clean up the wheels, and nail those bars, then this thing will make it's way over to F.A.G engines and we'll see if Druff and Beans can get this thing ready for Thunder Road.

I know it doesn't look like much now, but trust me, it's gonna be like listening to Burzum doing 120 miles an hour wearing a clown mask with no pants on drinking Listerine.

Stole this pic from Itsume's blog. I don't know her, and I don't read Japanese, but her site is totally killer with some evil shit in just about every area you could want, food, motos, hardcore...

I don't know where in the hell she found this photo, but the only non-entertainment job I've ever had was serving up cups of frojo at this place for my "summer job".

I spent every day slicing strawberries in the walk-in freezer to stay cool and avoid the work and customer service part of the job, and then occasionally I'd meander out to the front to pour hefty kick-down cups of yogurt for the cute girls who walked in off Ventura Blvd. 

Correction, I once worked at a Christmas tree lot. But that kinda doesn't count.

If you haven't peeped it out yet, you simply must check pilferedmagazine.com. 

Rudj and Patrick Hoelck. 

Two great minds joined forces and put together something really nice. 

The latest issue is guest edited by Cory K, and features a pic of my favorite non-family male human, Wade Oates of The Virgins. (it's kind of a Lost thing)

I jacked this pic from them, but if you read their mission statement, it's only fitting.

I gotta go pay attention to my wife.