Hey Mr. Ambient Dub Guitar Techno Guy, Shut up. Had you asked to borrow the mixer, I gladly would have let you. Heck, I could have made you one at the time because there was a surplus of Unicorn's blood at the Eastern Market. But no, you were off spatting on about some damn thing called Ableton at the time and I couldn't get you to listen.
And Ken, both of you are wrong. It was at an Arby's. Two weeks later I found a rancid curly fry with horsey sauce stuck to a Roberta Flack record cover. I dared Theorem to eat it, but it didn't have enough delay on it.
