Thursday, March 30, 2006
I just got an email from ticketmaster stating the Soul II Soul is opening for Tim Mcgraw and Faith Hill.
Does anyone else think this is a bad idea?
In other tragic news, I have relinquished my 301 number. Giving up my last shred of old line state pride. My one false hope was for a new number that would be easy to remember or spell something funny. No such luck, unless you think 733T speak for pink is a real hoot.
On a mildly related sidenote, one of my very best childhood friends had the mother of all derived dirtiness telephone numbers which when spelled out on the keypad formed the lovely phrase WEEFUCK or alternately 933FUCK.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
For me, I would have to say...
Everything but the Girl -- Tempermental
Pure electronic bliss, not too fast, nor too slow. Tracey Thorn's vocals synch up deliciously with Ben Watt's beats. Relatively unknown to the masses minus that one track "Missing--you know the one And I miss you...like the deserts miss the rain." That was originally more of a rock track until Todd Terry remixed it and sent it off into the stratosphere of clubland. Realizing the success of mixing electronica into their music, their following album split out about 50% electronic/50% brit pop. In their next album (Tempermental), EBTG reached full electronic transformation. Very nice and loungey, quite similiar to the genre known as San Francisco house which is characterized by moderate tempo, rich soulful vocals, and deep driving beats.
A Tribe Called Quest -- Midnight Marauders
It simply does not get any better than this. Top drawer production associated with fond memories. I remember riding in the back of a friend's tempo, rocking this album on cassette tape while drinking a 40 of Old English out of a brown paper bag on the way to a club in DC known as The Roxy. It was a reggae venue which, like many DC clubs, evolved into something totally different, Five. For me this album is as much about the memories as it is the content, both of which are incredible. Lyrically, this album is fun but includes social commentary (which is severely lacking in modern rap music). Tracks really cover alot of ground from the moody to the upbeat. For some unknown reason, I would religiously play this album while driving through Richmond on my way to and from college. The music just seemed like such a natural fit with driving through than city at night.
Deee-Lite -- World Clique
Ah yes, big ups to Miss Lady Kier, Dimitri and DJ Towa Tei. Known to most as one hit wonders with "groove is in the heart" and perhaps by a select few as a two hit wonder with "what is love" this groups is most sadly overlooked. For as different as my first two selections are, Deee-lite masterfully bridges the gap. They are, for the most part, an electronic Housey sounding group, but they have a love and appreciation (and respect) for hip-hop as evident by Q-tip's cameo on groove in the heart. Deee-lite released three albums and I have them all and they have some real gems that never got the attention they deserved.
So, if you had to pick three, what would they be?
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Nevermind the fact that Niven, my invisible friend lived in a vacuum cleaner during the formative years of my young life. That's a whole other story.
I distinctly remember when my parents purchased a hoover upright with headlights and a detachable dustbuster. It was pretty much like the Knight Rider of Vacuum cleaners. It even had a digital display where you could up the power from 3 LEDS to 5 with the press of a button. Totally Radical!
Needless to say, I wanted people to share in the excitement. At the time, my mother (who is a therapist) worked out of our home and I was telling one of her clients in the waiting room (IE our living room) all about the wonders to behold in the magestic hoover.
The client gave me a puzzled look and told me I was weird. Man, that is low, someone in therapy calling ME weird. I guess it is equally low that I am now writing this and making a subtle implication of pot and kettleness, thus suggesting people in therapy are weird, when the true fact of the matter is that WE ARE ALL WEIRD in some fashion but I digress.
Fast forward about 25 years when me and melady decide to buy our first vacuum together (awwwwwwww!) this past weekend.
After 30 seconds of online research, specifically reading a comment "It is the Shaq of vacuums" I was sold on the almighty Dyson. Due to our ownership of one Ms. Bailey "Rosa Parks" Peabody the first, our cat we opted for no ordinary dyson, but one who goes by the street name "The Animal."
How could you not get excited about a vacuum cleaner called "The Animal." Christ, it is only missing a small handheld unit called "The Hawk" and you basically have the greatest tag team of all time as vacuum cleaners. Sure it's purple, but so is grape soda and we all know even the staunchest of gangsta rappers can't hate on grape soda.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
My latest 2:00 documentary focuses on the seedy underworld of Peep fights.
This is the thunderdome of Peep Jousting. Things get out of hand pretty quick and soon an all out peep civil war erupts.
Watch at your own risk, as your lives may be changed forever.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
Sunday, March 19, 2006
If you haven't, chances are, you've never been an introvert that's gone to Wegman's. Seriously, that place is like Harry Potter's camping tent. It looks like a typical sized grocery store from the outside. Once inside, however, you realize the place is bigger than the entire state of Rhode Island.
Good googely moogely, look just look at the wall of TP! It's like a freaking maze of two-ply.
They get props for selection for sure, but man, if you decide to go, you better block out 4 hours from you schedule, 6 if you need the post trip nap.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
I mean, really, is that some kind of cruel joke?
Does his stylist tell him "yeah the hobo is the new soul patch" as a passive aggressive means of payback?
Or perhaps does he shave himself and no one bother to tell him he missed a spot?
Inquiring minds must know!
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Friday, March 10, 2006
Wiggidity-Wow! Now That's a slice of 40 ounce heaven. Either someone with photoshop is an evil tease or Kim's Mart (across from Nappy's Cue Lounge) has a serious contender for the crown of best selection east of the Ole Miss.
If you look closely you will find the Waldo of malt liquor, the PBR 40. Thought to be mythical by many, here we have photographic proof of its existence. What better way to bridge the worlds of Hill Billy and Billy Dee, but with a refreshing 40 ounces of beer voted America's best in 1892?
Thursday, March 09, 2006
"theres no lyrics its just Vanilla Ice beatboxing."
Like playing Rock/Paper/Scissors with Jim Abbott*
*Jim Abbott, born without a right hand, played for Flint Central and pitched in major league baseball for 11 years.
PS Does anyone have access to video footage of a man boxing a kangaroo?
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Monday, March 06, 2006
All in the man's plan to coopt true hip hop. First the easter bunny, now this.
In other news I had a bowl of Borscht this weekend along with a rather potent russian beer that was supposedly a "stout" but looked like miller light in hue and tasted like leaded gasoline. After my second beer, melady said to slow down, as I was starting to smell like fire.
In a dinner conversation that was interesting and tasteless by many standards, an new idea was born (I think). The concept of a dive bar that caters to women who like women.
This concept emerged largely from a miscommunication and my own warped mind. Someone mentioned the possibility of going to a diVe bar after dinner. Someone else heard going to a dy!e (rhymes with mike) bar after dinner. I said why not both?
Is there such a thing? I imagine there may be such a place and it would be called the rusty softball and would feature a jukebox load with Melissa Etheridge and maybe some Tori Amos.
Anyhow I gotta go work. I suggest you do the same.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Friday night served as one of those not too frequent enough reunion of your high school boyz occasion. We dined on the finest of Popeye's chicken and the maltiest of malt liquor while discussing the finer points of gangsta rap circa 1990-1994 and then HA-DO-KENing the taste out of each other's mouth in a PS2 sort of sense, by playing Street Fighter 2 on Capcom Classics.
Basically there are 2 key points I want to make here...first the events of the weekend pretty much put me in the "back in the day" mind set required to consider this topic and second, there is a distinct possibility that I will link to a related post to be, tenatively called "P!ss and a biscuit" from Brutha Ed's blog seeing as he writes the thing then shares the link (hence we get another Wicked-esque perspective of the evening's events).
Anyhow melady went out for the night while all of this ruckus occurred, and as Firefighter Matt so eloquently put it "Yeah she doesn't want to stick around for this horsesh!t." And good times ensued.
The following day, melady returned with stories that involved the discussion of evolutionary mathematics. WTF! As if you didn't have enough trouble with Bio and Math on there own. Some sick puppy combined these two subjects into a single pocket protector area of interest. The discussion included a mention of the fact that breakthroughs in the field would make Nietzsche hum with glee like a Llama about to be fed as they suggest, implicitly that God is dead.
This sparked a random memory of some kid from my high school's senior quote "God exists...I can prove it mathematically." I am not even going to comment on that kid's social status in the hell that was high school as that quote speaks for it self. The real pisser is the fact that my quote was repeatedly rejected on grounds of plagiarism and copyright infringement.
WTF (part 2)!!! Prior to my senior year, kids were putting all sorts of random things as quotes and proper citation was never an issue. Things done changed though and I fought tooth and nail to get a quote from a track from Dancehall Reggae don Supercat only to be stifled by "That's not a real name." According to my cassette tape it was. But those stringent yearbook staff power tripping F'rs had no love for me or my quote and as a result I went quoteless....until now.
"No good can come from hate, only cold thoughts and evil actions." --Supercat
Understanding the true energetic capacity of the human body is rather difficult to fully grasp, much less explain in the face of modern science. However, I am sure that at some point of their lives almost everyone has dragged their feet across the carpet in a dry environment only to deliver a minute electric shock to a person or object. Using this example it is easy to understand the body’s ability to build up, store, and release an energetic charge. I’ll argue that this energetic phenomena is not limited to static electricity, but can also be accomplished with other forms of energy.
Up till now I have witnessed several remarkable occasions where an emotionally charged person has come into contact with an electrical appliance only to short it out. The most recent was the mildest example. I had just gotten off the phone with my girlfriend, ex-girlfriend as of that conversation. I felt emotionally drained to the point that I can only describe the physical sensation as being akin to wearing drenched clothes. Everything thing seemed quite heavy and thick, and as soon as I touched my light switch, the light bulb blew out. Admittedly light bulbs do blow out, but the examples get better.
One summer while home from graduate school I was watching my nephew along with my dad. My nephew is an absolute dynamo of energy, and generally seeks to be the center of attention as most 5 year olds do. Well it just so happened that a television program on the philosophy of martial arts was coming on. These are two of my favorite interests, and as I result I really wanted to watch the show. As soon as my attention shifted from my nephew to the tv he stopped coloring and stood directly between my line of vision and the television. I made a deal to play with him as soon as the show ended, as long as he would let me watch the show in peace. Before I knew it he was turning my fan on and off repeatedly, which proved to be quite distracting. Again I offered a deal, that he could leave the fan on if he was hot, otherwise he would have to turn it off and leave it off. With a frustrated “FINE” he wrenched the knob on the fan to the off position, and at the exact same moment my tv set blew up. And it’s not like it was a piece of shit, it was a decent little magnavox set.
The third example rivals the second in impressiveness. In high school I was in a rather unhealthy relationship filled with arguments and conflicts. After one especially tumultuous argument "the warden" got mad at the fact that I ignored her childish temper tantrum. In her characteristic vindictive style she decided to teach me a lesson by storming upstairs and shutting the lights off to leave me alone in the dark basement. Well no sooner than she touched the light switch, did I see an actual electrical current travel along the ceiling straight to the ceiling fan/light apparatus, which completely shorted out.
UPDATE...the most recent example comes from just last week. We have had exceptionally dry weather and as a result I shocked the sh!t out of my self when I got out of my car every day. Twice on wednesday.
Ok, so obviously I've suffered a bit of intellectual atrophy in terms of my writing capabilities, but at the sake of gaining near german efficiency. While the fourth, (most recent) story is most likely rated about 6 grades lower by the kinkaid flieshman (sp?) standards, I told it in 1.5 sentences and let's face it, once out of the academic environment no one cares for fancy words and excessive jibba-jabba (especially MR. T).
Friday, March 03, 2006
Yeah, those were good times.
Fear not, I will crawl out of hibernation soon.
Until then enjoy this joke courtesey of Roscoe P. Coltrane...
What did one casket say to the other?
Is that you coughin? Quuuuu Quuuu Quuuuu
Look for my riveting post on the engertic capacity of the human body, a treatise formulated after static electrically shocking myself approximately 489 times this week.
More bounce to the ounce.
PS popeyes and 40s tonight. Holla!
PSS After well over 6 months our dining room table has arrived!