Tag Archives: music

Sugar doggy.

12 Oct

BASEBALL!?!??!?!

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I can’t watch The X Factor tonight because of rain delays for some baseball game airing on Fox. I’m displeased. Why? Why must Fox ruin my Wednesday evening? I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO IT ALL DAY LONG!!!!!!

Not all was lost. I did bust out a mean meatloaf tonight. Boy was it good. It is now officially one of the only things I can cook. Slowly adding to that list. We’ve got meatloaf, and…..meatloaf.

I make tacos sometimes, but I don’t think that counts.

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So yesterday, my dog was over at his dog-friend’s house, whose owner (Bob) is having his entire yard resurfaced. Basically he had guys over at his house all afternoon pouring fresh loose dirt all over the place and raking it evenly across the yard. My dog decided to plunge into Bob’s koi pond and then jump back out and roll in the fresh dirt for about 15 minutes moments before I brought him home. I have never seen him this dirty in his entire life. He was literally coated in mud from head to toe. The only thing untainted was the white tip of his tail. It was a disaster. I marched him directly home and made a bee-line for the bathtub as quickly as I could get him in there, avoiding him jumping up on the couch or the bed. I scrubbed, soaped, and rinsed him til he was squeaky clean, and then let him loose. He smelled delicious.

“Raleigh smells good. What kind of soap did you use?”  Trent asked.

“Just his normal puppy shampoo,”  I replied.

“Smells different,”  he said. I shrugged. It’s not like I could confuse puppy shampoo for Garnier Fructis.

But I could confuse it for this:

And I did.

I was in such a rush to get the muddy mutt clean, I accidentally grabbed my strikingly similar looking bottle of brown sugar vanilla bubble bath instead of the milk and honey puppy shampoo.

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It was a delicious mistake. He smells like baked goods.

Howard the hummingbird bit the dust. I kept her alive for a good long five weeks. I think five weeks is a pretty impressive amount of time to keep a wild injured bird alive, considering the fatality rate. Poor thing. Not even sure what happened. She just suddenly couldn’t open her eyes or lift her head. Probably got too wasted off nectar and OD’ed. Poor bird.

WELL, I will leave you with another diddy I recorded today. A nice little Norah Jones song for a rainy afternoon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1zVIQW6lxc

GOODBYE!

Sorry for yelling.

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C:   You should try some country.
B:   I hate country, Cole.
C:   Not all of it is good. Like, the twangy stuff sucks, but the other stuff is pretty great.
It’s like whiskey. You just gotta keep trying it and eventually you’ll find something you like.
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Souper hot.

11 Oct

There is a rogue mosquito flying around my living room. Nothing makes me more paranoid than an insect in my personal space. It keeps appearing and disappearing after I frantically and spastically wave it away. I will absolutely lose it if it sneaks up on me and sucks my blood. BOY do I hate mosquito bites.

My tomato soup is dead set on staying at a scorching 200 degrees. I feel like it’s been sitting in this bowl for at least 10 minutes. It’s still steaming like a river of molten lava. For all I know, someone switched my bowl of Campbell’s for a bowl of piping hot magma and sprinkled croutons on it as a cruel practical joke. “HA! Not soup, you have no tongue. Lol.” 

Tomato soup is made better by leaps and bounds with the simple addition of garlic croutons. It goes from elementary to gourmet in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately it makes your breath stink like ass. No pain no gain, though.

My amigo was just complaining about just now getting over the flu. “You didn’t get vaccinated?”  I inquired, as if I get vaccinated annually. (I don’t). I would rather endure four to five days of roller coaster chills/hot flashes, vomiting, and coughing like a SARS infested Asian than get pricked with a needle. BAH! I hate needles. Like, I really, really hate them. My father used to sometimes sneak up on me and stab me with a flu vaccine every now and again. I’ve become very weary and apprehensive of him lingering around during the holiday season. I’m all jumpy and uneasy. He grabs a pen and I karate chop him in the collar bone. You can’t be too careful. There’s nothing worse than the sneak attack needle stabbing. It’ll put you on the shit list straight away. Did you hear that, Dad?

…I’m onto you.

In other news, I have begun recording some makeshift at-home Garage Band songs on my computer. The quality blows, and sometimes it’s screaming loud and other times it’s quiet as a mouse, but take a gander if you wish. If you don’t like it, well…..my bad.

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That Adele, she really gets me going. P.s. – that is not me on the piano. The only thing I can play on the piano is “Deck The Halls,” and that’s with one finger.

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Hopefully I’m not just embarrassing myself on the world wide web. Only one way to find out.

WELLLLLL, time to go breathe my rank garlic mouth on others.

Kidding. That’s rude.

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R:   “Do you know this song?”

B:   “No.”

R:   “You don’t recognize this from prom?”

B:   “Randon, when you were at prom, I was in diapers shitting myself.”

All that glitters is old.

19 Jun

Is glitter really that inspiring of a material that pop singers worldwide feel irresistibly compelled to write songs about it? Are these girls pulling out their credit cards to snort lines of glitter off toilet seats in the bar bathrooms?

I feel like every song Ke$ha has ever released is about glitter. “Glitter and Glamour,”  “Glitter Puke.”  Her lyrics, if you can call them that, say,  “Where they go hardcore, and there’s glitter on the floor,” “Dirt and glitter cover the floor,” “Go insane, go insane, throw some glitter, make it rain.”  Pink is talking about “Glitter in the Air.”

Katy Perry is on board the glitter-train, “Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now,” Lady Gaga joined the club with “Glitter and Grease”—where does it end?

What happened to singing about love, lust, and loss?

…and rims, bitches, clubs, and cars?

………what happened to singing?

Cee Lo Green is apparently okay with the new glitter movement.

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Looks like Christina Aguilera dipped herself in caramel ice cream topping and then rolled in the dirt before this week’s episode of The Voice. My, god. That self-tanning move was a fail. She just can’t quite nail those looks this year it seems. But damnit, can she ever sing.

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How much Vicodin is safe/recommended to take at any given time? Christina is exceeding that amount. Just sloppy. Somebody needs to get that woman’s libido under control. Her inappropriate commentary about the contestants is getting out of hand. I think everyone was uncomfortable when she requested Patrick Thomas to remove his pants. Let’s try to stay on topic, Christina. Besides, the only person needing to remove their pants on NBC is Adam Levine.

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I am just not on board with Nakia. His voice is okay, but mostly I feel like he is shouting 90% of the time. The man is not attractive. He looks like Sweetums from The Muppets.

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Vicci Martinez has this tribal stomping move she does around the stage during every performance. The judges have referred to it as her “war dance,” but I have dubbed it the “squounce.” A squatting-bounce all over the place. It is too distracting for me to even notice her voice.

I love Casey Weston. She is just a doll with great pipes. If Adam Levine does not bed her, they are both passing up a golden opportunity.

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Try as they might, physicians and health gurus worldwide cannot inspire fear of skin cancer in me. Ten times out of ten, I will choose bronziness over epidermal health. I am about as afraid of melanoma as I am afraid of the boogie man. Sorry, SPFers. Sunblock higher than SPF 12 will never touch my flesh. 12 is even stretching it. Normally you won’t find me in anything heavier than 4 or 8. I think the best defense against skin cancer is a good attitude, and I’ve got one. I have a theory that anything above an SPF 30 is a hoax. If I wear anything above an SPF 8, I get zero pigmentation whatsoever. Put me in an SPF 50, and I’d probably disappear. It’s going to be hard to convince me that there’s much of a difference between SPF 30 and SPF 100. It’s like, one glass of orange juice gives me 100% of the Vitamin C I need in one day, so drinking five glasses isn’t going to do me any more good than the single glass already did.

Marketing. It’s all marketing.

WELL, I gotta go. The sun had better show its face so that I may even out my polo tan lines today.

Your comrade,

Rebecca

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“At least they styled him up a little bit. I mean they did the best they could with his ugly ass.”

“Yeah, he looks like Dom DeLouise.”

Which seat will you take?

27 Mar

So, is someone else going to murder Rebecca Black, or do I have to?

Every time this song is played, someone aborts a baby.

Ke$ha took a shit, and this is what came out. This is the most terrible song ever created. Ever. Are we really even allowed to call this a “song?”  If Ke$ha was dubbed the infamous talk-singer, I think her title has been stolen.

I have heard better lyrics come out of a Fisher Price toy. Are you telling me if I narrate my morning routine to a crappy pop loop and then explain which day of the week the current day falls on in respective order to the others (“Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday—today it is Friday! To-morr-ow is Saturday, and Sunday, comes afterward!” – perhaps she knows what number comes before and after 7 also?) that I, too, can become famous? Mine would be a little different:

“10 a.m., I’ve hit snooze 65 times, gotta get up, but not for school—dropped out of co-llege sophomore year, gotta go knock on doors to sell roofs.” (Continue on explaining the days of the week and making sure everyone knows what today is by repeating it relentlessly throughout the rest of the “song”).

“We we we so excited—we so excited. We gonna have a ball to-day.”

You you you so dead, Rebecca.

“Fun, fun, fun, fun, looking forward to the weeeeekend!”

I know my idea of fun x4 is getting really dressed up with my tween friends and then hanging around in a parking lot surrounded by cars that I’m not old enough to drive yet. Unless 13 year olds are drinking Smirnoff Ices in club parking lots now, I don’t know how to label what they’re doing. Certainly not “Partyin’, partyin’, YEAH! Partyin’, partyin’, YEAH!” I believe it’s actually referred to as “loitering.”

Who is the 32 year old black dude checking out the school bus full of 13 year olds in this video? Clearly he is pissing his career (assuming he had one prior to this atrocity) into the wind. Anyone associated with this girl or her “music” have thrown in the towel long ago, and really don’t give a shit about their lives at this point.

A large part of me is insistent on believing that this entire music video and song has GOT to be a joke. No one would ever create this in all seriousness and think it was a hit, right? This is a parody…right? Of herself? She’s joking? Tell me she’s joking.

Is it April 1st yet?

Well, at least Justin Bieber is getting a finally getting a break from all the hate-filled harassment I guess. Your parents must be proud, Rebecca. You’re really “blackening” the family name. (See what I did there? lolz). Not to mention mine.

Hahaha—So, a bunch of people on YouTube started commenting things like, “RIP Rebecca,” and “You guys, she killed herself.” For a second I had a glimpse of hope. Then I realized it was everyone else’s wishful thinking. Keep wishing, kids. If she hasn’t yet, she definitely will. 1,018,784 dislikes, and I am literally watching the thumbs down count go up as we speak like a ticking clock. Before I even finished that sentence, the dislike count has gone up to 1,018, 831. Hahaha.

Someone else left a rebuttal comment back to all the dissing that said, and this is a direct quote, “U guys need to stop, jus think about all the suicides becuz of cyber bullying, what if she like cuts herself.” She needs to. Okay? We’re all waiting for her to pull the trigger.

Well, if you’ll all excuse me, I literally need to go throw up my breakfast after having to watch this video at least three times to get all my points down on paper. Sacrifice. That’s what it is. You’re welcome.

Oh, it’s 1,019,041 now.

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“Hazing is a fun way to let a new employee know that she is not welcome or liked.”

Magic Mushrooms.

11 Jan

Bassnectar makes me want to just absolutely trip balls. Anyone? Anyone else? Never in my life have I wanted to do LSD more than while listening to “Timestretch” or “Wildstyle Method,” letting it melt my brain and shoot rainbows out of my ears. It has taken control of me. Things are about to get weird.

Today I finally decided to get myself some glucosamine supplements to aid my decomposing, squeaky, sore joints. I am now on the same dietary supplements that my roommates’ bulldog is on for her hips. We’re breaking down, she and I. Hopefully these additions to my diet will keep my knees and hips nice and lubricated and ready for all sorts of action. You know, spontaneous karate, long-jumps, climbing on the counter to reach kettlecorn way up on the top shelf, dirty stuff, extreme sports. That sort of thing.

I wish my hair would just catch on that I am going to keep dyeing it the exact same colors over and over and over again, and just start growing that way naturally. Why does it keep making me touch up my roots every 5 weeks? Unreal. Even dogs learn from repetition. Can’t my locks just figure it out already? L’Oreal Feria is getting so many dollars from me. So many.

Last night I laid in bed from 11 pm until 3:30 am unable to drift off into a blissful slumber. I was so pissed. For four and a half hours, I laid there staring at the ceiling, slipping slowly into madness, trying to get my brain to let me drift peacefully into unconsciousness. This is a dangerous cycle to get into. If I can’t fall asleep until really, REALLY late, and then I sleep late to make up for it, then I push my bedtime back once more, and I am stuck in the same disturbed sleeping pattern. It’s 5 pm right now, and I would love nothing more than to collapse into a two hour nap to make up for only sleeping for five hours last night, but if I do, then I’ll be awake to see 3 am again. Bring on the caffeine, doc.

…there goes that cycle again.

Bye.

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“I’m like, drunk over here, lookin’ at COU-pons! ….I’m out of control.”