SHAZZAM
Friday, February 24, 2006
Ok, I may be in love with a stripper.
If you’ve been reading this for a while, you know I had a hate-love relationship with the Black Eyed Peas’ “My Humps”. Well, it seems folks out there in the music world have took it upon themselves to make other goofy-ass songs that I cannot deny that I like.
T-Pain – “I’m In Love With A Stripper”. First, this fool’s name is T-Pain. T. Pain. Ok. K. K. His album is named Rappa Ternt Sanga. I don’t think he knows how to spell, much less come up with a cool name. All this is beside the point. This song is the shit. It’s mad infectious. And I only know the chorus part that talks about being in love with a stripper. I thought this song would be dumb, and it is, but it’s also super catchy. Don’t be ashamed if you’re humming this song. Jest let dis mess flo lak yoo iz naimed T-Pain.
So I just went and looked at the 100 most recently played songs in my itunes. And well, it seems “I’m In Love With A Stripper” is the most goofy song. Either way, I had to put this out there.
T-Pain – “I’m In Love With A Stripper”. First, this fool’s name is T-Pain. T. Pain. Ok. K. K. His album is named Rappa Ternt Sanga. I don’t think he knows how to spell, much less come up with a cool name. All this is beside the point. This song is the shit. It’s mad infectious. And I only know the chorus part that talks about being in love with a stripper. I thought this song would be dumb, and it is, but it’s also super catchy. Don’t be ashamed if you’re humming this song. Jest let dis mess flo lak yoo iz naimed T-Pain.
So I just went and looked at the 100 most recently played songs in my itunes. And well, it seems “I’m In Love With A Stripper” is the most goofy song. Either way, I had to put this out there.
Labels: music
¶ 4:02 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Prego kills Ragu!
There is a bottle of 409 that has been staring at me for a few days and I haven’t done anything about it yet.
So I thought it would be a cool idea to go get some food, take-out style. Normally, this involves me walking up to the street where food is, ordering, getting the food, and putting it in my bookbag. I am not sure why I don’t like carrying stuff, but I don’t. I even take my bookbag over to the place where I print stuff because I don’t feel like carrying it. Like bags were made to carry crap, so I might as well use it, right?
I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. The last time I got this at this particular place, you know, it was pretty good. I was feeling in an Italian mood, but I didn’t want pizza, so I figured spaghetti was a good choice. So I get this crap and put it in my bookbag, like I always do. It always works with sandwiches and even Chinese food, so this should be no different. Spaghetti, it turns out, is the devil!
As I’m walking back, I notice how unusually warm my lower back is. Notice, this is the exact location of the spaghetti in my bookbag. I really didn’t think too much of it, other than it was really warm. I get back to my place, and take out the spaghetti. When I take it out, I notice the bag covering the what-I-thought-was-styrofoam-but-was-instead-an-aluminum-pan-with-a-paper-lid was shredded open in marinara sauce. Like this bag had no chance with this spaghetti. Apparently, I failed to, you know, notice that this shit was in fact not stryofoam, and had erupted inside of my bookbag. And the sauce was now dripping from my hand onto the floor. Normally, this would make me pretty upset. Oddly enough, I was cool.
I didn’t even cuss! I grabbed some paper plates and shoved them under the erupting bag of spaghetti, then grabbed the only thing I could find that would soak anything up: my washcloth. Armed with the washcloth and some 409, I started to scrub the carpet. I managed to get the stains out (I think). My bookbag, however, is another story.
This piece continues to randomly reek of spaghetti. I cleaned it out with the 409 and let it sit out and inside-out for like two days. But it still kind of smells. I don’t really understand it. I meant to go back and re-scrub it, but I haven’t got around to it. That would be why the 409 is still out. Maybe I should do something about that. ¶ 9:50 PM 0 comments
So I thought it would be a cool idea to go get some food, take-out style. Normally, this involves me walking up to the street where food is, ordering, getting the food, and putting it in my bookbag. I am not sure why I don’t like carrying stuff, but I don’t. I even take my bookbag over to the place where I print stuff because I don’t feel like carrying it. Like bags were made to carry crap, so I might as well use it, right?
I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. The last time I got this at this particular place, you know, it was pretty good. I was feeling in an Italian mood, but I didn’t want pizza, so I figured spaghetti was a good choice. So I get this crap and put it in my bookbag, like I always do. It always works with sandwiches and even Chinese food, so this should be no different. Spaghetti, it turns out, is the devil!
As I’m walking back, I notice how unusually warm my lower back is. Notice, this is the exact location of the spaghetti in my bookbag. I really didn’t think too much of it, other than it was really warm. I get back to my place, and take out the spaghetti. When I take it out, I notice the bag covering the what-I-thought-was-styrofoam-but-was-instead-an-aluminum-pan-with-a-paper-lid was shredded open in marinara sauce. Like this bag had no chance with this spaghetti. Apparently, I failed to, you know, notice that this shit was in fact not stryofoam, and had erupted inside of my bookbag. And the sauce was now dripping from my hand onto the floor. Normally, this would make me pretty upset. Oddly enough, I was cool.
I didn’t even cuss! I grabbed some paper plates and shoved them under the erupting bag of spaghetti, then grabbed the only thing I could find that would soak anything up: my washcloth. Armed with the washcloth and some 409, I started to scrub the carpet. I managed to get the stains out (I think). My bookbag, however, is another story.
This piece continues to randomly reek of spaghetti. I cleaned it out with the 409 and let it sit out and inside-out for like two days. But it still kind of smells. I don’t really understand it. I meant to go back and re-scrub it, but I haven’t got around to it. That would be why the 409 is still out. Maybe I should do something about that. ¶ 9:50 PM 0 comments
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Things I Don't Understand
I am convinced that I can check my email only so many times before it really starts to get to me. There hasn’t been much for days, and still I check. There wasn’t anything new five minutes ago, and still I check. I sometimes have my email open in multiple windows because I forget that I opened a window already to check my email. This is kind of pathetic. I don’t really know why I am incessantly checking this thing! It’s like crack or something. I don’t get it.
A few months ago I kind of made a big deal out of the “My Humps” song and how horribly bad it was. Let me begin by declaring how big of a hypocrite I am. I am sitting here typing this with the aforementioned song stuck in my head. I love this song and not for any particular reason other than its insane infectiousness. Talk about crack! I don’t get why I like this song either, especially after having hated on it so much. I can only pray that this song is not rewarded with any kind of award (uh, why was “Let’s Get It Started” nominated for song of the year last year?). Otherwise, I swear I will be love drunk off her lovely lady lumps!
Damn it, I just checked my email again. And you know, it tells me every time there’s a new one, so I don’t even need to be clicking on it to see if anything new has arrived. I think this is a problem.
I love being vague as fuck. Like just now, I was asked, “What are you doing” and instead of being like, “Writing this goofy blog,” I said, “Sitting here.” I don’t even do it to be an asshole; I do it because I think it’s kind of funny. Folks all over the place are always so vague and it irritates the shit out of me, so I don’t really know why I do this. Like people who never, ever choose something. Where do you want to eat? I don’t care. What movie do you want to watch? I don’t care. Do you like to kill puppies? Sure. By the way, answering sure to a question borders on being hyper-vague. Do you think my hair looks ok, even though it’s mad fluffy and kind of funky looking? Sure. Fool, do not answer sure! Also, let me say that this is not a for real example from my life, and I am calling no one out. It is only an example of the retarded vagueness that is answering questions with “sure”.
Ah, I just resisted the temptation to check my email again. Now that I have admitted that I have a problem, I can work on conquering it! Not that this mess is taking over my life, however. This is getting kind of dumb. I suppose I should stop now before I start shaking in non-email-checking-withdrawal.
Damn it, I just did it again! ¶ 12:31 PM 2 comments
A few months ago I kind of made a big deal out of the “My Humps” song and how horribly bad it was. Let me begin by declaring how big of a hypocrite I am. I am sitting here typing this with the aforementioned song stuck in my head. I love this song and not for any particular reason other than its insane infectiousness. Talk about crack! I don’t get why I like this song either, especially after having hated on it so much. I can only pray that this song is not rewarded with any kind of award (uh, why was “Let’s Get It Started” nominated for song of the year last year?). Otherwise, I swear I will be love drunk off her lovely lady lumps!
Damn it, I just checked my email again. And you know, it tells me every time there’s a new one, so I don’t even need to be clicking on it to see if anything new has arrived. I think this is a problem.
I love being vague as fuck. Like just now, I was asked, “What are you doing” and instead of being like, “Writing this goofy blog,” I said, “Sitting here.” I don’t even do it to be an asshole; I do it because I think it’s kind of funny. Folks all over the place are always so vague and it irritates the shit out of me, so I don’t really know why I do this. Like people who never, ever choose something. Where do you want to eat? I don’t care. What movie do you want to watch? I don’t care. Do you like to kill puppies? Sure. By the way, answering sure to a question borders on being hyper-vague. Do you think my hair looks ok, even though it’s mad fluffy and kind of funky looking? Sure. Fool, do not answer sure! Also, let me say that this is not a for real example from my life, and I am calling no one out. It is only an example of the retarded vagueness that is answering questions with “sure”.
Ah, I just resisted the temptation to check my email again. Now that I have admitted that I have a problem, I can work on conquering it! Not that this mess is taking over my life, however. This is getting kind of dumb. I suppose I should stop now before I start shaking in non-email-checking-withdrawal.
Damn it, I just did it again! ¶ 12:31 PM 2 comments
