Ummm...seriously?
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.
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.
Which brought me to my choice of song.
Enjoy!
Showing posts with label video. Show all posts
Showing posts with label video. Show all posts
4.26.2011
Day Twenty: A Song You Listen to When You're Angry
I am not really into angry music. Partially because a lot of it is just a bunch of screaming and if I wanted to listen to screaming, I would just go hang out at a daycare or something. Screaming is not really for me. But there are a couple of really great angry songs, that do NOT involve screaming. My favorite song to listen to when I am angry (usually when I am angry at someone in particular) is "Untouchable Face" by the brilliant and talented Ani Difranco. Ani has a lot of really beautiful songs, some are empowering and inspirational and some give the perfect message of "Fuck You". That's this song.
11.04.2007
11.02.2007
Reasons to Hate
Last night, Spliff and I took the trek downtown to see Ben Harper at the Florida Theater. I wasn't expecting a show as good as the last time we saw him, (you know, with several of the Marley brothers), but I was expecting the same sort of high-energy show that I have grown accustomed to. I am used to being pissed because some drunk whore keeps stepping on my toes or jumping around like a maniac and slamming into me...I am not, however, used to spending the whole concert SITTING because some jackhole several rows back doesn't FEEL like standing. My bad, I thought this was a concert, fucktard, and if you wanted to sit the whole time, then you should have bought a fucking DVD. It wasn't just him though...it was the ENTIRE audience, save for a couple of people who clearly did not give a shit about the people behind them and did not get asked to sit down by any fucktards. I don't mind sitting through the Jacksonville Symphony Orchestra, but you don't sit at a Ben Harper show. You just don't fucking sit! You stand up, you get excited, and you jump around like a fucking maniac and certainly don't ask people to sit down because you are too much of a lazy ass to stand up!
I was super disappointed with the audience. I was disappointed at the usual things, like the amount of girls who thought their SHIRTS were long enough to be dresses and the guys with their collars popped, but more than that, I was disappointed that no one seemed to actually be a FAN of the music. The girl in front of me actually sat through the entire concert and spent the entire time yawning and looking around to see what everyone else was doing. We were tempted to help her out and tell her where the fucking stage was located. Yet another reason that I hate people.
Oh, but there are more reasons. This morning, I woke up and turned on the television, knowing full well that I would regret it. Of course, I turned the channel to VH1 and was sucked in to watching a Britney Spears video. Okay, now I have never been a fan and am certainly not surprised to find that she has no talent and is a hot mess, but once again, I am amazed by the level of superb BADNESS. Seriously, it took me a minute to decipher whether I was watching a bad drag act or an actual video. I can't imagine how much money that bitch made for standing next to a stripper pole and lifting her heels one at a time to shake her ass. Not to mention the song. I think that there might have been three words to the whole thing. I wasn't aware that three words repeated over and over with different inflection constitutes a song. This is all news to me.
Also, who the fuck is Tila Tequila? Seriously. What does she do? Where did she come from and why do all of these people want a "shot at love"? Were they so hard up for a bisexual that they had to create the skank for ratings? Have the people at VH1 lost their minds? Have they seen the crap they run? I admit, I was totally addicted to Rock of Love...sometime about the overt skankiness of the whole cast made me feel very well adjusted...not to mention completely prudish but absolutely gorgeous. It was like crack. But I knew who Bret Michaels was...I have no fucking idea where this Tequila person came from!
What is the world coming to, people?!
I was super disappointed with the audience. I was disappointed at the usual things, like the amount of girls who thought their SHIRTS were long enough to be dresses and the guys with their collars popped, but more than that, I was disappointed that no one seemed to actually be a FAN of the music. The girl in front of me actually sat through the entire concert and spent the entire time yawning and looking around to see what everyone else was doing. We were tempted to help her out and tell her where the fucking stage was located. Yet another reason that I hate people.
Oh, but there are more reasons. This morning, I woke up and turned on the television, knowing full well that I would regret it. Of course, I turned the channel to VH1 and was sucked in to watching a Britney Spears video. Okay, now I have never been a fan and am certainly not surprised to find that she has no talent and is a hot mess, but once again, I am amazed by the level of superb BADNESS. Seriously, it took me a minute to decipher whether I was watching a bad drag act or an actual video. I can't imagine how much money that bitch made for standing next to a stripper pole and lifting her heels one at a time to shake her ass. Not to mention the song. I think that there might have been three words to the whole thing. I wasn't aware that three words repeated over and over with different inflection constitutes a song. This is all news to me.
Also, who the fuck is Tila Tequila? Seriously. What does she do? Where did she come from and why do all of these people want a "shot at love"? Were they so hard up for a bisexual that they had to create the skank for ratings? Have the people at VH1 lost their minds? Have they seen the crap they run? I admit, I was totally addicted to Rock of Love...sometime about the overt skankiness of the whole cast made me feel very well adjusted...not to mention completely prudish but absolutely gorgeous. It was like crack. But I knew who Bret Michaels was...I have no fucking idea where this Tequila person came from!
What is the world coming to, people?!
7.31.2007
2.04.2007
The Anatomy of a Productive Saturday
When Spliff got her last minute guilt trip about not wanting to go home for the weekend, I was fairly certain that aside from her violent opposition on the matter, she would give in. And that is exactly what happened. I was, on one hand, ecstatic that I would actually get my wish of a silent apartment and a “sleep till noon Saturday” and on the other, sort of bummed that I would have to make plans and venture out into the world if the mood struck me to be entertained.
I slept until noon. I cleaned the kitchen. I watched “Teen Witch” and wished Fish Head were around so that we could practice the “top this” rap battle together. And then, I got insanely bored. Normally, had I had money, I would have decided to drag one of my friends out or go bar hopping with Jennagiraffe, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Despite invitations to parties, bars, and clubs, I sucked it up and stayed home. I watched Danny Bonaduce, while babysitting his kids and two others, rub their odd-looking dog down with bacon, affix some to his collar, and take the kids outside to find coyotes and shoot them with some sort of pellet gun. I watched China Doll threaten to go “midget bowling” with Vern Troyer. I watched Drew Barrymore host SNL for the 850th time. And I drank enough wine to calm the antsy feeling that had been building all day.
It wasn’t all bad though. I learned some valuable lessons:
If Danny Bonaduce wants to babysit, don’t let him. He will rub your dog down with bacon and try to lure coyotes. That’s probably not a child friendly activity.
China Doll is a huge, scary idiot and she should pick on someone her own size.
How to poop in the woods. With or without a partner. (See? Who says the Real World isn’t educational?)
And that, my friends, is the anatomy of a productive Saturday.
And now, for your viewing pleasure...
I slept until noon. I cleaned the kitchen. I watched “Teen Witch” and wished Fish Head were around so that we could practice the “top this” rap battle together. And then, I got insanely bored. Normally, had I had money, I would have decided to drag one of my friends out or go bar hopping with Jennagiraffe, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Despite invitations to parties, bars, and clubs, I sucked it up and stayed home. I watched Danny Bonaduce, while babysitting his kids and two others, rub their odd-looking dog down with bacon, affix some to his collar, and take the kids outside to find coyotes and shoot them with some sort of pellet gun. I watched China Doll threaten to go “midget bowling” with Vern Troyer. I watched Drew Barrymore host SNL for the 850th time. And I drank enough wine to calm the antsy feeling that had been building all day.
It wasn’t all bad though. I learned some valuable lessons:
If Danny Bonaduce wants to babysit, don’t let him. He will rub your dog down with bacon and try to lure coyotes. That’s probably not a child friendly activity.
China Doll is a huge, scary idiot and she should pick on someone her own size.
How to poop in the woods. With or without a partner. (See? Who says the Real World isn’t educational?)
And that, my friends, is the anatomy of a productive Saturday.
And now, for your viewing pleasure...
10.13.2006
9.21.2006
9.19.2006
9.06.2006
8.30.2006
7.11.2006
A Day in the Playhouse
I can’t remember the last time I played charades. Before this weekend.
Charades is one of those games that you watch people play on TV (because on sitcoms and movies, everyone plays charades…and at summer camp, I suppose), but put three idiotic adults in a room with a few beers, some pot, and some paper and leave us to our own devices? What are you left with? That’s right. Three idiotic adults with various levels of a buzz, trying to guess “American Beauty” from what looked like me standing to do the pledge of allegiance and then admiring myself in a hand mirror. Not to mention the very sad attempt to imitate a waving flag.
We made up our own topics ranging from “Sex and the City” (this being the one that Spliff and I were to act out together…we both, though laughing hysterically, thought that one would be a little awkward and skipped it) to Skate or Die. (The best skate video game EVER…if you never owned the original Nintendo, then you are too young to be here…shoo.)
But Sunday didn’t start out with charades, it started with Rummy. Because Rummy, for those of you who don’t know, is like crack. But then quickly escalated to The Jollyspliffter’s version of “Win, Lose or Draw” (The Criz Edition) where we all picked random phrases, wrote them on slips of paper and drew them out of what might have been at one time (or may become in the future) a bong. We were careful not to look at each other’s slips, but miraculously, with no previous discussion of the man, Spliff and I BOTH wrote “Pee Wee Herman”. I would like someone to explain to me why at any point in my friendship with Spliff, we would both be thinking of Pee Wee Herman at the same time without any provocation.
I admit, there are times when we will sit silent for minutes on end and then say the same random phrase in unison for no reason. Or have the same song stuck in our heads all day. Or attempt to call each other at the same time. But really, Spliff? Pee Wee? All I could do was scream, “GET OUT!” She didn’t. Not of the head nor the apartment. Which is fine. Its always good to have someone in your head just incase you lose it somewhere and they can lead it right back to the rest of you.
So, in honor of Spliffany, I leave you with this tasty little morsel…
Charades is one of those games that you watch people play on TV (because on sitcoms and movies, everyone plays charades…and at summer camp, I suppose), but put three idiotic adults in a room with a few beers, some pot, and some paper and leave us to our own devices? What are you left with? That’s right. Three idiotic adults with various levels of a buzz, trying to guess “American Beauty” from what looked like me standing to do the pledge of allegiance and then admiring myself in a hand mirror. Not to mention the very sad attempt to imitate a waving flag.
We made up our own topics ranging from “Sex and the City” (this being the one that Spliff and I were to act out together…we both, though laughing hysterically, thought that one would be a little awkward and skipped it) to Skate or Die. (The best skate video game EVER…if you never owned the original Nintendo, then you are too young to be here…shoo.)
But Sunday didn’t start out with charades, it started with Rummy. Because Rummy, for those of you who don’t know, is like crack. But then quickly escalated to The Jollyspliffter’s version of “Win, Lose or Draw” (The Criz Edition) where we all picked random phrases, wrote them on slips of paper and drew them out of what might have been at one time (or may become in the future) a bong. We were careful not to look at each other’s slips, but miraculously, with no previous discussion of the man, Spliff and I BOTH wrote “Pee Wee Herman”. I would like someone to explain to me why at any point in my friendship with Spliff, we would both be thinking of Pee Wee Herman at the same time without any provocation.
I admit, there are times when we will sit silent for minutes on end and then say the same random phrase in unison for no reason. Or have the same song stuck in our heads all day. Or attempt to call each other at the same time. But really, Spliff? Pee Wee? All I could do was scream, “GET OUT!” She didn’t. Not of the head nor the apartment. Which is fine. Its always good to have someone in your head just incase you lose it somewhere and they can lead it right back to the rest of you.
So, in honor of Spliffany, I leave you with this tasty little morsel…
7.03.2006
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