tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73769422024-03-13T23:42:55.068-04:00Space YOUR FaceHere are my ramblings...some of you know them well...the rest of you will soon enough...spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.comBlogger1031125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-62927574424099398532011-08-25T09:49:00.000-04:002011-08-25T09:49:56.762-04:00Pros and Cons of a Las Vegas WeddingLadies and gentleman, here it is, my first ever GUEST POST! <br />
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Behold!<br />
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If you are thinking about turning that whimsical summer fling into a life-long contractual obligation by hopping on the first flight to Las Vegas there are some pros and cons you should consider first. Thankfully, for your sake, I went to the trouble of making such a list, and I will share that list with you now.<br />
<strong>Pro: Elvis Will Marry You</strong><br />
Having the King marry you is quite an honor. No matter which King it is, you’re basically having a royal wedding. And we all know about the boner Americans get over royal weddings. You will probably make it on the news. Also, I’m pretty sure this King won’t insight <em>Prima Nocta</em>, like that bastard Longshanks did to <em>Braveheart</em>. I’m pretty sure.<br />
<strong>Con: Love is Fleeting</strong><br />
It is. Nothing lasts forever. Change is inevitable. Diamonds are forever. Every kiss begins with Kay. All the clichés are true. There is a 90% chance that your relationship ends horribly. Leaving you forever scarred emotionally and a piece of you gone forever. Or maybe it will work out, who knows for sure.<br />
<strong>Pro: Cheap Buffet</strong><br />
Serving all your guests dinner can be one of the most expensive parts of a wedding. Not so in Vegas, home of the $8 Buffet. Is there anything more beautiful than a woman in her wedding dress asking for extra mashed potatoes? I would venture to say there is not.<br />
<strong>Con: You Will Probably Be Cheated On</strong><br />
Statistically speaking, it is likely that anyone entering a serious long-term relationship will cheat or be cheated on. For someone who gets married in Las Vegas that number doubles or triples. Where am I getting these numbers? From a reliable source, that’s where. I have groups of researchers running around the clock to bring you up-to-date statistics like “double or triple”. That’s why you are reading this in a medical journal.<br />
<strong>Pro: Nic Cage</strong><br />
It will be just like that Nic Cage movie, “Honeymoon in Vegas”. What could possibly go wrong when you base real life decisions on something you saw in a Nic Cage movie? Full Disclosure: I’ve never seen that movie, but I did see “Leaving Las Vegas” with Nic Cage and I imagine your life-story will be closer to his character in that film.<br />
<strong>Con: In The End, You Are Married</strong><br />
That just doesn’t sound like a good time. Remember when you were just having casual sex with this person? Was that not good enough? You might want to think about this for a second and just go back to the casual sex deal. You two were so great at it.<br />
<strong>Pro: You Can Always Get Divorced</strong><br />
It’s true. And most married people do it, so it must not be a big deal. And there are literally thousands of lawyers in Las Vegas, so if your relationship falls apart before the weekend is over there are many fine <a href="http://www.naimidilbeck.com/">Las Vegas divorce attorneys</a> awaiting your call.<br />
<strong>Con: There Are A Lot of Attractive Single People In Las Vegas</strong><br />
And now, you are not one of them.<br />
Good luck!<br />
<div style="font-style: italic;"></div>Kevin O'Connor is a content manager for Olicity Online. If you do decide to get married and then also decide to get divorced, please visit the <a href="http://www.naimidilbeck.com/">Las Vegas divorce attorney</a>'s office of Naimi & Dilbeck.spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-7494516025303453842011-08-10T16:48:00.005-04:002011-08-10T16:54:09.338-04:00A Favorite<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">From time to time, being that I have had this blog for an eternity, I get all ambitious and decide to read through again. Sometimes I pick random posts and sometimes I search for specific things I have written about. I have my favorite posts and I have my least favorite ones. I read over, every so often, the heartbreak I've experienced and the debauchery that I have participated in. And sometimes I get a little teary…but most times I am wondering how I survived for the last several years without being killed in some bizarre accident. (I have stolen giant stuffed animals and carried them down busy streets, ya'll! After 17 shots of something terrible that probably tasted like liquorice!) I have really been wanting to find the time and go through and pick out some of my favorite posts from the past, oh 80 years or so, that I have been keeping this blog, but I have yet to actually do it. Today, however, I started thinking about this ONE post that I wrote that I like okay, but what really, really, really makes it memorable and ultimately one of my favorite posts are the comments. One, in particular of course, by a guy I never met and who calls himself Muckypuffin. Anyway, I thought I would share it with you, because every time I read it, it makes me super happy. And it makes me want to…well, send Muckypuffin whatever would be the equivalent of fried spaghetti in his world across the Atlantic. ENJOY!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #31849b; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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</div></div></div><a href="http://spaceface01.blogspot.com/2005/09/fried-thoughts.html">A Favorite.</a> </div></div>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-17006943137931753152011-08-10T09:06:00.002-04:002011-08-10T09:13:07.577-04:00Victimology<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I think that one of the weirdest parts of not really being friends with Spliff anymore is the connection we both have with other people. I have a hard time going to places I know she likes to go because I don't want to see her outside of the office. I don't want to be forced to talk to her in public and I don't want to have to pretend for more than 40 hours per week that I have any desire to be in her life. But that is kind of a weird feeling, even though it has been that way for well over a year now. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">In the office, I don't have to make small talk. We talk about work. And honestly, I don't have an issue most days having to spend at least 8 hours with her. We still laugh about stuff and we are "work friends" and I am totally fine with that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I recently got back into touch with a friend of mine from high school who stopped hanging out with me shortly after (his best friend) J and I split up. I always thought that the reason that we stopped talking so much was the fact that J was his best friend and, even though we had all been friends for over 5 years at that point, I was not. I could see where that would be weird for him. And J. And even me at that point. But, that's the thing with break-ups. You don't always get custody of all the friends in the divorce. And I have been around the block a few times, and I am okay with that. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Needless to say, last night when BB and I hung out for the first time in over 6 years and he told me that the reason he stopped hanging out with me wasn't because of J, but (like so many others of my friends) because of Spliff, I was pretty…well…I don't really know. I was definitely a little pissed that her selfishness had cost me so much time away from someone that I cared so much for and I was obviously hurt that he didn't make an effort to tell me this before falling off the planet for six years. But mostly, I felt an overwhelming sense of "DUH". </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Spliff always had a way about her that made everyone really comfortable. My guy friends (not all, but many) always had crushes on her and, at least with the ones that she wanted to remain friends with (which was only really two of them) she was pretty clear that she wanted nothing romantically to do with them. And those two, followed her around like puppies for years and just pined and pined. But the ones that she didn't care about? Chewed up and spit out. The thing was? I DID care about them. I was the reason they met her. I felt responsible. And I was the one who had to hold their hands through the whole crushing mess. And eventually, because I lived with her for 8 years, I lost a LOT of friends over it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Last night, sitting with TT (who was a victim, but is now the best thing that ever happened to me) and BB (former great friend and also a victim), I giggled. Because yeah, it sucks that they both got burned by my former BFF, but they both made it. And now have girls who won't treat them like shit. So? Everybody wins. And everybody hates her. (Which also makes me giggle, cause I got the good friends in the divorce.) There was not really much thought of her at all until BB waved me over to point out the bartender. A guy I used to talk about a bit here, on this blog. Spliff's unicorn. The one guy she could never really have. He broke up with her at least twice, both times crushing her into tiny blonde pieces and both times she was begging for more. (And the last time we spoke of him, she would still take him back.) He did to her what she did to everyone else. And there he was. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">The Molester, having been a friend of mine, also since high school, was the one of my guy friends that all of my girl friends wanted to date and that all of my other guy friends wanted to be. To me, he was just "The Molester". But to Spliff, he was a god. And last night, standing there with two boys that she crushed and the boy who crushed her and knowing that I had lost touch with all three at one point or another because of her, I realized it. There was no doubt in my mind that not being friends with her is the right thing to do. In the end, I just wanted to hug them all (and then maybe slap TM for good measure) and thank them for reaffirming JUST how much I have because I don't have her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Moral of the story? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Connection or no connection: Removing her from my life has brought me my boys back. And I wouldn't trade that for 20 Spliffs. (Unless they looked like Taye Diggs. Then I would consider it.) </span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-4462229364048714232011-08-01T16:47:00.000-04:002011-08-01T16:47:17.002-04:00Because EVERYONE Likes Free Stuff!<a href="http://www.listia.com/?r=629758"><img src="http://www.listia.com/images/banners/468x60a1.gif" alt="Auctions for free stuff at Listia.com"></a>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-25672824952821867232011-07-28T20:32:00.003-04:002011-07-28T20:32:31.869-04:00Because Sometimes Youtube is on Acid<iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/skCV2L0c6K0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-26043890933699525842011-06-23T08:45:00.000-04:002011-06-23T08:45:48.088-04:00Upromise Guest Shopping for Crystal<a href="http://www.upromise.com/guest/2502904085">Upromise Guest Shopping for Crystal</a>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-21237060675682522632011-06-15T10:24:00.003-04:002011-06-15T13:04:28.064-04:00Day 30: Your Favorite Song at This Time Last Year<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">First and foremost, I would like to say that this is ridiculous. At the start of this challenge, I had a hard enough time trying to figure out what my favorite song was THEN. Now I am supposed to remember last year’s favorite song? What?! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I am going to go out on a limb here and go ahead and say that I was listening to a lot of <a href="http://www.rockyvotolato.com/">Rocky Votolato</a> at this time last year. I have no idea if this is an accurate statement. But I can be sure about one thing. I heart Rocky Votolato. A couple of years ago, Pookie’s ex turned me on to him and I couldn’t have been more in love. I can also go ahead and say that if I was listening to Rocky this time last year, then I was probably listening to “White Daisy Passing” which is a beautiful (albeit sad) song. And if I was listening to that song, then I was most likely listening to it over and over and over again, thinking about people from my past and either wishing that they were around or wishing that I had punched them in the face when I had the opportunity. Either way…amazing song! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">So, as a female child of the 1980’s, it is totally fair to say that I was kind of in love with Jordan Knight. I tight-rolled my jeans, totally did that wave thing with my bangs, and liked things that were bedazzled and/or fluorescent. (Which sounds much like what you see now, when you enter…THE MALL.) But even with all the NKOTB obsessing, I had time to devote to my real hero. Debbie Gibson. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ioIii0ShAmE/Te-Bu2z3v6I/AAAAAAAAATE/PU0_OTprL_M/s1600/dg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ioIii0ShAmE/Te-Bu2z3v6I/AAAAAAAAATE/PU0_OTprL_M/s1600/dg.jpg" t8="true" /></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">When I was in second grade, Debbie Gibson’s first album came out. And I was totally in love. I am serious. My friend Scarlett and I probably wore out several Debbie Gibson tapes (yes, tapes. God.) during the course of the time that we were neighbors. Scarlett and I were super-fans. We both dressed up as Debbie Gibson for Halloween one year (and, of course, since her mom was awesome, her costume was better and I spent the entire night lamenting over that bedazzled jean-jacket that I absolutely NEEDED. IN. MY. LIFE.) I was, however, the blonde one, so I felt some superiority because I might have looked a little more like our idol than Scarlett did. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Scarlett’s mom used to dress us up in costumes to go to the <i>grocery store</i> (and I am talking two 8-year-olds in FULL crazy, glittery makeup and ridiculous outfits which may or may not have involved tutus) and QUITE often, we had to be Debbie. Picture it with me, internet, two miniature Debbies running around the produce section of Winn-Dixie singing “Only In My Dreams”. I am sure that we frightened people. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">So, that, my friends, is my song for today. Now go over <a href="http://www.scarlettlillian.net/">here</a> and see if you can picture me and this lovely lady, prancing around the grocery store dressed like little tranny-clowns. Go ahead. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">So, fortunately for me, thinking of a song that makes me feel guilty was super easy (read: ridiculously effing hard) and I didn’t need my iPod (read: sort of wanted to pull my hair out and/or bang my head against something hard and possibly pointy). But I found it, guys. I found it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I picked “I Can’t Make You Love Me” by Bonnie Raitt. I think we have all been, to some degree, on both ends of this situation, ya’ll. I have definitely been Bonnie Raitt in this scenario, being all smitten and retarded over some dude who obviously didn’t love me, but liked me enough to make out with me (while, in turn, keeping me hooked and more smitten), but that isn’t the part that makes me feel guilty (foolish, yes, but I was a teenager, and that means it was my job and my right to be an idiot). I have also played the part of whomever Bonnie happens to be singing to. And that, I am not proud of. Sometimes, it is easier for people to just have someone to…have…than it is to deal with being alone. Even if that person, isn’t the one for you. Or, like, listens to Godsmack or something. It is always nice to be wanted. But it kind of sucks when you know you’re kind of…well…being a douche. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">So there it is. My feeling guilty song (which only took me a billion years to think of). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div></div></div></div>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-37559849813286499762011-05-26T15:01:00.002-04:002011-05-26T15:50:01.765-04:00Preach On...<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">So, I try really hard not to get into touchy subjects here. Sex? Eh. Sometimes. Drugs? Come on, ya’ll, *I’m an adult. Rock and Roll. Yes. But Politics and Religion. No. Never. Not a chance. And this is not because I don’t have strong views. Because I know that I DO have strong views and I would rather not have to argue with anyone here about them. This is my safe place. And I know, I know, I should be saying a big FUCK YOU to anyone who comes here and wants to argue in MY house, but I would rather just not get into it. I will tell you though, internet. I don’t like hate. I don’t like war. I don’t like ignorance and I will punch you in the face if you are a racist. That said, I am going to go ahead and give some props to my friend Hesper over here who got a little fed up with the whole passive-aggressive Muslim-bashing that happens on Facebook. (I am totally aware that it isn’t just Muslim-bashing, but all these “patriots” who get on their high-horses and start spewing their ridiculous, “patriotic” nonsense trying to tell the entire world that the USA is the best country in the world are really just proving that there are a lot of really stupid people here.) Anyway…I got a little carried away…Sorry. (See above where I said that I don’t want to talk about this stuff here? Remember why? I ramble. And I get pissed. And I will punch you.) </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Ahem…starting again…Hesper! My friend over <a href="http://www.blendedsosplendid.blogspot.com/">here</a>…wrote this on her blog and I thought, “Well hell…I totally agree. I am gonna bring her soapbox on over to my soapbox and they can hold hands and skip together and be friends for all eternity. (Also, she is awesome. Give her props.)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Enjoy! (Read: Holla if ya’ hear me!)</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #17365d;">Brace yourselves. It is about to get all controversial up in heeeere. I am fired the eff up right now. A so-called “friend” of mine on facebook just posted the following:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #17365d;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN">“</span></span><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif";">I need to start a business in the middle east making land mines disguised as prayer mats.</span></span><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN">”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="messagebody2"><span lang="EN"></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #1f497d;">Is it just me or is that absolutely disguisting? I thought all of the hate mongering almost 10 years ago was ridiculous, but I just can’t stand to listen to it at this point. Muslim does not equal terrorist, just like German does not = nazi. How can you write off an entire religion because on one major (awful) event?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #1f497d;">The Islam faith did not attack the world trade centers, a group of religious fanatics did. I think it is important to remember that there are fanatics in every religion, race, country, etc. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #1f497d;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #1f497d;">Is it really fair to make Osama Bin Laden the face of Islam? I don’t think so. I do, however, think it is high time people get over themselves. Burkas don’t come with bazookas and bibles don’t come with a license to judge the hell out of everyone else.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">*Debatably. </span></b></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-86854225091196019462011-05-26T09:08:00.002-04:002011-05-26T09:11:25.608-04:00Day 26: A Song You Wish You Could Play<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Okay, internet, yes. I realize that I haven’t posted anything in a really long time. And I probably should have tried to be realistic about doing this in thirty days. But I am still on it. I swear. Thing Two and I have had a lot of company and a lot of debauchery at our house. And, well, honestly, I am exhausted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Okay, so here goes. First of all, I think I have already told you that the only instrument I can play is the kazoo (and possibly the triangle, I suppose, depending on the difficulty of the song). That being said, it is safe to say that EVERY song is a song that I wish I could play. So, I really had a lot to choose from here. I thought about a bunch of songs that I would love to be able to play. And I kept ending up at the same place, Mates of State. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I am sure there are way more obvious songs out there. And I am sure there are way more complicated ones, or beautiful ones, or touching ones. But I really, really, really love Mates of State and the dynamic that they have together. Also, I am sort of jealous of anyone who can play the piano (keyboard…whatever.) So, I chose, “My Only Offer”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
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Can most people play instruments? I am going to go ahead and tell you right now, internet, that I have absolutely NO musical ability. I can identify songs by the first two notes. I can recognize the screech of Axl Rose from 15.3 miles away. I once even tugged on Damian Marley's dreadlocks with both hands and he didn't kill me. But I couldn't play the triangle to save my life. <br />
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So, I thought, "Well, hell, how the hell is someone as inept as me supposed to answer this question?" But then I realized..."I CAN PLAY THE KAZOO!" And I don't care what you say, internet, the kazoo is a musical instrument. It makes melodies. And I can play it. <br />
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Which brought me to my choice of song. <br />
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Enjoy!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/sosg_9eXjAg" width="425"></iframe>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-67187607988714189482011-05-02T11:35:00.002-04:002011-05-02T16:29:47.214-04:00Day 25: A Song that Makes You Laugh<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sp01a-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B002E3K4Z2&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>Oh, this one is fun, internet. I am going to go ahead and tell you that Jonathan Coulton is effing hilarious. I had never heard of him until one day, Rack sent me a text that said, “I made this half-pony half-monkey monster to please you”. At first, I thought he had lost his mind, but then I just shrugged it off and when he didn’t mention it again, totally forgot that Rack may or may not have had some sort of mental breakdown and could be locked up somewhere in a straight jacket. Then a few days later on the way back from dinner, he plays this song and I nearly peed on myself (read: probably DID pee on myself). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">So here it is, “Skullcrusher Mountain” by Jonathan Coulton. I tried to get Fish Head and Mr. Fish Head to play this at their wedding but they don’t like half-pony half-monkey monsters. What can ya do?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">“Brokedown Palace” - Grateful Dead</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Fare you well my honey<br />
Fare you well my only true one<br />
All the birds that were singing<br />
Have flown except you alone<br />
<br />
Goin to leave this Broke-down Palace<br />
On my hands and my knees I will roll roll roll<br />
Make myself a bed by the waterside<br />
In my time - in my time - I will roll roll roll<br />
<br />
In a bed, in a bed<br />
by the waterside I will lay my head<br />
Listen to the river sing sweet songs<br />
to rock my soul<br />
<br />
River gonna take me<br />
Sing me sweet and sleepy<br />
Sing me sweet and sleepy<br />
all the way back back home<br />
It's a far gone lullaby<br />
sung many years ago<br />
Mama, Mama, many worlds I've come<br />
since I first left home<br />
<br />
Goin home, goin home<br />
by the waterside I will rest my bones<br />
Listen to the river sing sweet songs<br />
to rock my soul<br />
<br />
Goin to plant a weeping willow<br />
On the banks green edge it will grow grow grow<br />
Sing a lullaby beside the water<br />
Lovers come and go - the river roll roll roll<br />
<br />
Fare you well, fare you well<br />
I love you more than words can tell<br />
Listen to the river sing sweet songs<br />
to rock my soul</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></i></b><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Now that I have gotten all that out, don’t think that means that I haven’t thought about songs! I mean, HELLO, internet! I am a woman and I am sentimental and, duh, I am obsessed with all things musical. So, NATURALLY, I have picked a song for me and Thing Two and it goes a little something like this…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></u><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><i><u><span style="color: #4bacc6; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">“You Are the Best Thing” – Ray Lamontagne</span></u></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: #4bacc6; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: #4bacc6; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Baby, it's been a long day, baby<br />
Things ain't going my way<br />
You know I need you here<br />
Here by my side<br />
All of the time<br />
<br />
And baby, the way you move me it's crazy<br />
It's like you see right through me<br />
And you make it easier<br />
You please me and you don't even have to try<br />
<br />
Oh because, you are the best thing<br />
You are the best thing<br />
You are the best thing<br />
Ever happened to me<br />
<br />
Baby, we've come a long way, baby<br />
You know, I hope and I pray that you believe me<br />
When I say this love will never fade away<br />
<br />
Oh because, you are the best thing<br />
You are the best thing<br />
You are the best thing<br />
Ever happened to me<br />
<br />
Now both of us have known love before<br />
To come on up promising, like the spring, just walk on out the door<br />
Our hearts are strong and are hearts are kind<br />
Well, let me tell you what exactly is on my mind<br />
<br />
You are the best thing<br />
You are the best thing<br />
You are the best thing<br />
Ever happened to me<br />
<br />
You are the best thing<br />
You are the best thing<br />
You are the best thing<br />
Ever happened to me<br />
<br />
Yeah, yeah<br />
Yeah, yeah, yeah<br />
Now, now, now, now</span></i><i><span style="color: #4bacc6; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I went back and forth on this one because, well, I didn’t want this entire 30 Day Song Challenge to revolve around Ryan Adams, but seriously, people, he writes some delicious depression. I didn’t do it, though. I didn’t take my page-long list of Ryan songs that sometimes make me want to stick my head in the oven out. I deliberately chose someone else. And I believe I made a wise choice. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">“Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley. Now, I know, I know. This is kind of an obvious one. But come ON. This song is PAINFUL. Kudos to Leonard Cohen for writing it, but holy cheesus, I am so glad that Jeff Buckley covered it! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I chose, “Everybody’s Got Their Something” by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikka_costa">Nikka Costa</a>. Ironically, Spliffany introduced me to Nikka Costa in the first place. But that’s not Nikka’s fault. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have serious desk-dancing to do.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ipUdoUcNmKI" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-30254260039796602412011-04-25T16:00:00.002-04:002011-04-25T16:01:43.114-04:00Day Nineteen: A Song from Your Favorite Album<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sp01a-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B00004XSKU&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>It should not come as a shock to you, internet, that my favorite album is “Heartbreaker” by Ryan Adams. There is literally not ONE song on this record that I could not listen to over and over again. I am not sure if my goal here is to pick my favorite song from my favorite album or just a random one, so I am going to just wing it. (I can’t really pick a favorite anyway, this album is really THAT good.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I had to go with “Come Pick Me Up” here because it is so excruciatingly beautiful. It’s true, it has the ability to make a well-adjusted person slit their wrists, but really in the best possible way. This whole album really is a Heartbreaker. A perfectly orchestrated Heartbreaker.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">When they call your name <br />
Will you walk right up <br />
With a smile on your face <br />
Or will you cower in fear <br />
In your favorite sweater <br />
With an old love letter <br />
<br />
I wish you would <br />
I wish you would <br />
Come pick me up <br />
Take me out <br />
Fuck me up <br />
Steal my records <br />
Screw all my friends <br />
They're all full of shit <br />
With a smile on your face <br />
And then do it again <br />
I wish you would <br />
<br />
When you're walking downtown <br />
Do you wish I was there <br />
Do you wish it was me <br />
With the windows clear and the mannequins eyes <br />
Do they all look like mine <br />
<br />
You know you could <br />
I wish you would <br />
Come pick me up <br />
Take me out <br />
Fuck me up <br />
Steal my records <br />
Screw all my friends behind my back <br />
With a smile on your face <br />
And then do it again <br />
I wish you would <br />
<br />
I wish you'd make up my bed <br />
So I could make up my mind <br />
Try it for sleeping instead <br />
Maybe you'll rest sometime <br />
I wish I could</span></i><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i></i></div></div></div></div>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-61749118292476449542011-04-25T08:42:00.002-04:002011-04-25T08:46:03.743-04:00Day Eighteen: A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sp01a-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B000002H72&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>I am going to go ahead and say again, that I don’t listen to the radio. Because on the rare occasion that I like something that the radio plays, it is inevitable that it will get played so much that I will begin to hate it. I prefer to listen to music the way that it was intended, for enjoyment, and not to torture myself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All of that being said, I don’t really know how to answer this question except to say that I want to listen to “Hey” by Pixies pretty much constantly. I love, love, LOVE the Pixies and cannot get enough of this song. In fact, Rack is fully aware that in order for me to ride in his car, he must play one of two songs: “Hey” or “Hot Topic” by Le Tigre. Because I am a brat. But I gets what I wants.</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div></div>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-2808190192663267552011-04-25T07:59:00.002-04:002011-04-25T08:17:50.583-04:00Day Seventeen: A Song that You Dance To<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=sp01a-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B001BCX3MS&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>I am just going to say right now that I am not a big dancer. I need a couple of cocktails and some pretty significant motivation before you will catch me on a dance floor. Motivation usually equals a really good song and a cute boy. For dancing though, a really good song, almost always has to be reggae. Reggae is the only music I can dance to with confidence that I don’t look like a I have some sort of disorder that causes uncontrollable twitching. So, for today, I chose, Beres Hammond’s “Rock Away”. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">It reminds me a lot of the days when I liked hanging out with Spliffany. (You know, before I knew she was actually the anti-christ). A lot of good times were had, drinking and dancing to reggae on Sunday afternoons at our favorite bar overlooking the ocean. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Me: You don’t even know what I am doing right now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Him: Yes I do. You are digesting a sammich and wishing you could take a nap.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Me: NO. I am standing on my head, crocheting a blanket.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Him: That’s exactly what I wanted you to do. BOOM! INCEPTION.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">This, my friends, is why I love Rackamonie. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I had to pick, “I Will Possess Your Heart” by Death Cab for Cutie. I am not going to go into my reasoning for my loathing for this song. I will just say the reason is a specific person (who lurks around here from time to time, against my polite request that he stop). This person is not a bad person. Not a serial killer (I hope) or anything like that. Just someone I am reminded of when I hear this song and someone I would rather not have to be reminded of at all. And it sort of ruins the whole thing for me. All 35 minutes of it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">(And no lie, iPod is on shuffle and guess what song just came on!) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Note to self: Update iPod. Stat!</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"></span></div></div></div></div></div>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7376942.post-89404109553787342492011-04-21T12:04:00.002-04:002011-04-21T15:24:33.779-04:00Day Fifteen: A Song that Describes You<div class="WordSection1"><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Oh. My. God. </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">This is so hard. I have been stalled here for 24 hours trying to find a song that DESCRIBES ME. How the hell does one DO this? </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">Hespy suggested “You Don’t Own Me” by Bette Midler. Even though that is a great song, I had to say no. Because the mention of Bette Midler reminds me of “Beaches”. And then I think about Margaret Cho’s joke about “Beaches”. And then I think of drag queens. Again, with the drag queens. </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">So I picked lesbians instead. </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">“Closer to Fine” by Indigo Girls.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">After all, some of my closest friends are lesbians. And the song is pretty great too. </span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">The song I picked shames me. But I intend to defend myself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">So, (brace yourselves) I picked “Tick Tock” by Ke$ha.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I would like to say, internet, that the reason I know this song is because I frequent drag shows. Yes, I know, you are totally shocked that someone as totally conservative such as myself would attend a drag show. But its true. And drag queens really, really like Ke$ha. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I bought Just Dance 2 for my Wii. This song is on it. I dance to it periodically (when I am not dancing to various Fat Boy Slim songs. My choices are limited. Stop judging me.) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">That’s really all the defense I got. But I will say that were it not for my love of drag queens and dancing badly in my living room while tipsy, I would never have heard this song. Because I am neither 13 or a drag queen. But, dammit internet, it is catchy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt;">I said good day.</span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>spaceface01http://www.blogger.com/profile/15914124707264744274noreply@blogger.com0