The Fourth of July is usually associated with fireworks, hot dogs... you know, American-type things. However, this past Friday I received a thorough ass-whooping from punk hero/Sonic Youth guitarist Thurston Moore, in what has to be the most memorable beatdown I have ever received. I headed downtown to New York's Battery Park to photograph the band's free July 4th show and everything was going normally during the band's first song. As the group ramped up the noise, Moore seemed to become more and more enraptured with the fuzzed out sound he was producing with a drum stick and his guitar.

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Before starting my online internship at Rolling Stone, I thought that there was a magical program that popped all editorial content onto the website. Little did I know that for every article in the magazine, it takes a complicated series of modifications to tailor it for your viewing pleasure.

Take HTML formatting. You wouldn't think twice about the foreign characters in Beyoncé or Mötley Crüe's names, but it's my job to plug in the nerdy combos of ampersands and numbers that make them look pretty on the site.

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This past Friday, German pop sensation Tokio Hotel invaded the Rolling Stone office for an hour. As you can tell by the image above, these guys certainly have a unique image that has somehow struck a chord with teenage fans all over the world. I don't necessarily understand how this group got so popular, but I also do not think I am necessarily their target audience.

We did a short video interview with them in which they discussed such topics as German hip-hop, their infamous crazy fans, and of course, their love for David Hasselhoff (seriously, the 'Hoff came up at least two or three times).

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After reading the past "From The Intern Desk" posts, I had the urge to tell the world that interning at Rolling Stone isn't all transcribing and rick rolling. As a photography and video intern for RollingStone.com, I am lucky enough to get out of the office and venture to the occasional loft space, concert hall, or swanky hotel in order to assist with our copious amounts of video interviews, as well as photographing concerts and events. Sure, I sit around in the office on most days, uploading and editing various photos and video clips for the website. Those "Idol Countdown" posts you see every week? Painstakingly captured, edited and uploaded by yours truly, a conscientious objector to the soul crushing world of Idol (and let me tell you, Michael Johns' rendition of "Dream On" was certainly nothing to write home about). Or I spend my morning perusing our Media Grid program, which displays hundreds upon hundreds of paparazzi, live concert, and random photos. Imagine an unfiltered Perez Hilton (sans the Photoshop fluids of course) with extremely snarky captions like, "Lindsey Lohan went grocery shopping this morning. She wasn't wearing makeup and was looking uglier than normal."

However, the true highlight of my internship is being able to photograph concerts at night.

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In last week's intern dispatch, we presented a short vignette detailing our bread and butter here at Rolling Stone: transcribing. But much like the dead air that can come between any interviewer and his subject, there's the dead time we suffer through in between assignments.

Let me make this clear: Sure, we procrastinate, but sometimes — especially during closing weeks, when editors are glued to their computers like a weave to Beyoncé's head — there's genuinely nothing to do. I recall one particular afternoon in which our inbox was so barren that not one, not two, but five of us opened the mail. That was a dark day.

When work becomes rarer than the sight of a fully-clothed Iggy Pop, there's only one thing left to do: Rickroll.

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Occasionally, the Capri Lounge will open up its doors to the hard-working interns here at RS. Here's the latest dispatch from the unpaid labor battlefield.

For our first blog post assignment last week, we interns were asked to describe what doing unpaid labor for Rolling Stone is really like. Let me tell you that it took every inch of resistance in my body to not simply respond with the words, "Everyday we're hustlin'."

You see, ever since I transcribed Austin Scaggs' interview with Miami rap boss Rick Ross, I have become fairly obsessed with the ethos and philosophy of the Trilla One. The magic that came out of my headphones that day had much to do with the casual rapport Scaggs tends to build with his subjects. But, more than that, it had to do with Ross' unique perspective on fashion, drugs and dining.

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Occasionally, the Capri Lounge will open up its doors to the hard-working interns here at RS. Here's the first dispatch from the unpaid labor battlefield.

We’ve Got Skillz…

The morning begins like this: each day, like clockwork, interns congregate around the round table to begin compilation of the media packet (a collection of news clippings distributed to the editors each day). Communication is minimal, since we're all technically still sleeping. Without a strong dose of coffee in my system, my grammar is a cross between peevish toddler and Yoda: "Sleepy, I am."

Admittedly, I am not a morning person. But few jobs begin around noon, which makes snoozing late a thing of the past. Former jobs never really required much of me (my first resume was so bare that I cited skills I thought were impressive just to fill space: "I can swim" and "recite the alphabet." I omitted "Churro making," as I thought that wouldn't be an applicable skill).

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