Seriously, Don’t Tell Everyone That I Listen To Norah Jones On My iPod

6:56 AM THURSDAY MORNING
Your Town, USA
PowerPower Gym

HEY MAN, ARE YOU GOING TO BE HERE ON YOUR LITTLE TREADMILL FOR AWHILE? ME AND SOME BROS WHO ARE ON THE WAY ARE ABOUT TO SLAM IRON, SO IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE, THAT’D BE AWESOME. YOU STAYING? SUIT YOURSELF, CHUBBS, BUT KNOW THAT WE’RE GOING TO BE DOIN’ A LOT OF SWEATIN’, LOT OF SCREAMIN’ AND A WHOLE LOT OF METALBLARIN’. LIKE SO!

(/pushes iPod button on speakers)

Oh, God. Listen…listen, man, BUDDY!, man, you CANNOT tell any of the guys about to be here that I was listening to that. Please, pal, you’ve gotta do me this solid. It…it wasn’t even mine! Oh man! It was totally my girlfriend’s song on my iPod, she’s always listening to that kind of crap and IT TOTALLY MAKES ME SICK. Right? So we’re good. It’s my f’in girlfriend’s song. Just that one. Norah Jones. Every chick loves Norah FREAKIN Jones. Not me though. Give me METAL. Give me GUITARS. Give me RAGE! Glad we got that covered up, Puss. Now….let’s not mention it again. To anyone.

(/changes song on iPod)

Whoa…um…looks like…she’s got a…lot…of songs on my iPo-….look, you really can’t tell anyone about this. I need this group to think I’m the baddest badass that’s ever had an ass that’s ever been ungood. Seriously, I’m wearing a camo hat. I’ve NEVER been hunting. It’s just I don’t like waking up abruptly, and these piano playing women are the most soothing sirens I’ve ever heard. They sound like they’re made of body pillows that secrete sensual lotions that seep into your brain and tell you that you’re not the failure your father says you are. I need them more than I need this weightlifting thing and I REALLY need this weightlift-…

HEY GUYS, WHAT’S UP?! YOU READY TO SLAM SOME IRON? YEAH! AHH! WHAT? AHHH! WHO’S READY?! YOU READY?! I’M READY! LET’S DO THIS! LET’S! DOOO! THIS! WHO’S GOT THE IPOD? LEFT MINE AT HOME!

You’re not going to tell them I actually have my iPod, are you? Please don’t. They don’t understand how blissful it is to sit with a warm pumpkin spice latte and whole wheat bagel and just let Norah rock you to comfort within the warm embrace of her soulful melodies. I don’t know how she does it, but somewhere between her fingertips and her larynx is where I’d love to make my gentle cabin in the wilderness and live the rest of my days.

NO! I DIDN’T! I DIDN’T BUST THAT ONE OUT HAHA! GOOD LORD THAT ONE SMELLS LIKE EGGS AND DANFORD’S MOM’S FUPA! OOOHHHH! SHUT UP DANFORD, YOU PANSY! LIFT THAT, DANFORD! LIFT THAT AND I’LL NOT TOUCH YOUR MOM EVER AGAIN! AHHHH YOU KNOW I CAN’T STAY AWAY. JUST MESSIN’, DANFORD, YOU BAG OF NUTS.

Please, don’t tell them that when I hear an alto voice coming from a piano-playing woman, I melt away into a Parisian cafe to talk about life, love, and other mysteries. Don’t you tell them about any of that. Nary you mention how this is the only thing playing in my Victorian duplex, or smartcar, or iPod. Please, I don’t even LIKE my iPod! Vinyl is the only way to listen to these soulful sirens. Norah Jones, Joy Williams, Tristian Prettyman-

HEY, WHERE ARE THE TUNES? I CAN’T LIFT UNTIL I GET SOME FIVE-FINGER DEATH PUNCH! LIFT IT, DANFORD! GET IT! YEAH!

-Keri Noble, Allison Krause, Natalie Merchant, Adele, and on and on. Do you realize how many puppywuppywoowoo-, I mean, dogs, Sarah McLachlan has encouraged me to adopt? Eight. Now I have nine dogs and three cats crammed into this duplex. AND I LOVE ALL OF THEM. Each and everyone one of these adorable creatures. We read magazines, sip Earl Grey tea, and live our simple lives together and the only two things I have holding it all together is this music and this weightlifting group I go out with on weekends.

OH, T.J.! OOOH T.J.! YOU ARE GOING TO POUND YOU SOME SQUISH THIS WEEKEND! WE ARE GOING DOWNTOWN! AND WE ARE GOING TO JUST SLAAAAY!

Please. Not a word. I’m begging you. These guys…they, uh, wouldn’t understand.

THIS A-HOLE? I DUNNO, BUT HE’S BEEN ON THE TREADMILL FOR AWHILE? KICK HIM OUT? NAH, BRO. LET’S NOT DO THAT.

Oh please. No. Don’t say anything about it.

OH I AGREE, I TOTALLY WANT TO THROW HIM OFF THE TREADMILL. I JUST DON’T THINK RIGHT NOW HE’S WORTH IT. I ALREADY WARMED UP! NOW I’M READY TO LIFT THE BIG WEIGHTS! DON’T WANNA GO DOWN ON THE WEIGHT SCALE BECAUSE OF THIS CHUMP! HAH! I BET HE IS GAY!

You’re not gay are you? I’m not, but I’m really sensitive to LBGT and questioning persons issues, so I’m so sorry if I offended you. Please. Don’t say anything to them. Oh, Lord. I’ll give you money out of my wallet. Please.

NO THAT’S NOT MY IPOD.


DUUDE. THAT’S SOME LAMENESS. I LIKE DON’T EVEN WANT TO WORK OUT ANYMORE. LET’S ALL LEAVE! AND GO BANG CHICKS! YEAH! RAAGE!

Thank you. We’re leaving. Thank you thank you thank you.

HEY, SO MY IPOD GOT SMASHED…CARE IF I JUST STEAL THAT ONE?

…Thank you so much.

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Disney Movies + Three 6 Mafia = Utterly Awesome

This is one of my favorite videos of all time for a number of reasons.

It goes without saying that I’m a huge Disney fan. I grew up on movies like Alice in Wonderland, Aladdin, Robin Hood (the one with the fox, not Kevin Costner), and Beauty and the Beast. Any reference therein is duly appreciated, even though, in hindsight, some of these films are a little frogged up.

I went and saw Beauty and the Beast (the musical version) last night at the Muny in Forest Park, the largest outdoor stage in the US of A, which reminded me of this froggishness. A few notes:

  • The Enchantress who started all this stuff was a little hasty in my judgement. Some old and crazy looking woman comes up offering me flowers, I’m probably going to shut the door in her face, too, and I’m ridiculously polite. If she transformed into a beautiful woman, I’d still be like “Whoa…you’re still homeless, right?” /Another door slam. And she did it WAY before his 21st birthday. The kid wasn’t even legal and you’re essentially dooming him to look like a lionbullwolf? That’s not cool, lady. Not cool.
  • Anyone else find it mildly off-putting that as the servants transformed into objects that reflected their personality (e.g. Cogsworth became a clock because he was wound tightly, etc.), Lumiere (original name, Walt) became a candlestick, which is one of the more common household murder weapons of all time? “Oh, Cogsworth, you’re a clock?! Lumiere, you’re a candlestick! Jeff, you’re a loaded handgun!” Also, Lumiere seemed to be a bit of a Pepe Le Pew-esque rapist. Just sayin’.
  • Disney did right by making the coolest character in the movie the villain, Gaston. Very Darth Vader of them. However, they didn’t give him the death he deserves. He haphazardly falls off the castle after shanking the Beast, fading into the darkened depths to an assumed fatal dose of blunt force gravitational trauma? Whatever. Meanwhile, a random henchman gets the COOLEST death in a Disney movie when the Opera-singing wardrobe crushes a man to death. Go to 1:10 at this video. After a quick cut to Gaston to let the Wardrobe smear the blood and guts off her, the man is still fused to the hardwood floor crater. THAT’S  a way to go.
  • I understand that this is a version of a fairytale, but this movie was made in 1991; the concept of love really should’ve been about more than just a dying smooch. I mean, even I kissed more than ONE consenting female prior to my 21st birthday. That’s not love. But I guess that would’ve been too real. Also, I guess that would’ve opened up a Pandora’s box and a wellspring of kid’s questions about the social restraints against bestiality, love-making, etc.

Whatever, I’m over it.

I also love that video because I love Three 6 Mafia. I’ve already mentioned this before (and it’s an awesome story), but one of my fondest memories of college was after the 2007 Academy Awards. The rap trio won for Best New Song in a Film for “Hard Out Here For a Pimp” in Hustle n Flow.  You would have though the Grizzlies would have won the NBA Finals (although this is still probably more likely to happen again than that). Best part? At the time, it was Martin Scorsese – zero, Three 6 Mafia – one on the “How many Oscars do you own?” scale.

In the post-award interview, I believe it was DJ Paul (left, belly full) who pointed to his golden, highly coveted Academy Award and said “I’ma hafta melt this thang down; You can’t buy weed and pussy with this.”

So friggin fly.

So anyway, that’s a cool video. Hate Mail coming soon. Booyah.

Zack’s Hate Mail from Joey of ‘Friends’

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In our offices, everyday it seems like Zack gets a piece of Hate Mail from just about any and everybody you could imagine. Here are some of the keepers:

Dear Zack,

I just came across this computer page, and I couldn’t be more upset. After getting someone to read this for me, I think you have serious psychobrain issues you need to address in a hurry. I mean, the violense, the inappropriate references, the blaytunt sexism! It’s all too, too much.

[Gives a sluttly-looking girl a wink]

Who do you think you are? Do you think you’re funny? I mean, you probably just sit alone in your chair, writing these stupid word collections, laughing to yourself and getting mad at everyone who doesn’t think you’re hilarious. Who’s laughing now, huh? Me! At you! Contribute something to society! Do you not have a job? Do you not having anything to show for yourself? You probably couldn’t even be more pathetic, not even if you tried.

[Changes out of one outfit into another from an inexpilicably well-funded and endless wardrobe] Continue reading “Zack’s Hate Mail from Joey of ‘Friends’”