Finally, C-Town gets their props in the form of Wedding pictures from Doug and Cara’s ceremony out in Whistler. Big up, big up. If you’ll remember, my camera mysteriously broke and no one else bothered to send me any snaps. Wicked thanks, by the way. Here is a little sample, and there is another one in the gallery here. Doug is a lucky guy. Cara is… um… lovely.
New Year’s Eve Ripcord.
My plans were just canceled for me – long story – and I’m pulling the ripcord as I do every year and just going to Sidebar. If you’re wandering, lost and alone, without any plans – please join us. I will be attending a little suaree at 80s Katie’s beforehand, but will ultimately end up singing Danny Boy somewhere in the Combat Zone and possibly even getting contact burns around my mouth.
The details as I understand them are a $60 fee to get in with champagne and food supplied. There’s a DJ I think, and 2 separate groups holding ‘parties’ – neither of which can manage to fill the place. Sometimes stumbling into a big room full of people you don’t know and making some new friends is a lot fun. Sometimes, it leads to social diseases. Regardless – I’m going. I’m pulling the cord and just committing. I will definitely enjoy not seeing you there as you do something far more interesting.
This Is My Space. That’s Your Space Over There.
Because I don’t already have my pants down around my ankles in terms of anonymity, I added a MySpace link to my disturbing little profile in the top navigation menu. Feel free to click through and add me if you’re a fan of the blog – or just watching in sick fascination like a school bus driving past a car accident. While we’re on the subject, here is a list of things I promise you will NOT find on my MySpace profile:
1. A fucking annoying hip hop song that starts five minutes after the page loads and sends your coworkers jumping underneath their desks like Slick Rick just drove past the office.
2. Animated gifs of the Napoleon Dynamite dance (sorry Damaris).
3. Photos of me with my shirt off standing beside a mediocre car. I don’t own a car, and my pale, gym-shy chest currently looks like the midsection of a narwhal.
4. A link to my band that sucks monkey cocks. Although, if I had a band, admittedly it would be called Monkey Cocks. MySpace has become this malestrom of mediocre talent that was never meant to see the light of day. “Dude, I did a search and can see that you like the Magnetic Fields. So I think you might like my band, Indifferent Potato. It’s actually just a squirrel I found in my backyard being recorded as I rode over it with an electic lawnmower, but I think you’ll get the vibe.
5. Pink on black anything.
So click on through and make yourself a new MySpace buddy. Some people wear their MS friends total like a badge on their sleeve. These people also usually spend Friday nights playing Unreal Tournament. Maybe we can join the same clan or something.
Monday’s Quotelet: Hare Today, Hippo Tomorrow.
I don’t have the energy for Wadio today, and half of you aren’t even working. So let’s move up the quotelet we didn’t have on Monday, and get right on with our young lives.
Casting issues would eventually shut down Disney’s 2007 update of “The Tortoise and the Hare”.
Actually, Matthew Perry Has Always Frightened Me.
Has rap gotten extraordinarily awful, or have I just gotten old? It’s a question which has plagued me for years. I’ve even written about on this very website. There’s nothing about bling, oversized baseball hats, expensive cars or beats that sound like they were made on a rusty Speak N Spell that appeal to me. “I’m a player, a smoker, a deadly loan broker!” If a rap song doesn’t contain a creative sample I wonder, how much of this is dumb luck or crack debts being repayed? And it kills me – because I used to be a huge hippedy hopper, albeit a subtle one. So where’s the real disconnect?
There’s still a slim enough chance that some of you haven’t seen this that I feel comfortable pointing it out. And I read a great quote written about the silly short that makes me feel a little closer to some answers.
“People aren’t forwarding this video because it’s a parody of what’s bad about rap; they’re sending it around because it’s an ode to what can be great about it. Instead of aurguring a new day for SNL, maybe it points up what’s missing in mainstream rap is an awareness that it’s OK to be goofy.”
The greatest moment’s in rap’s golden age were all silly – sometimes intentionally. The first big rap hit of all time featured fairies, keopectate and woody chicken. Phife busted off on your couch and made it Seaman’s furniture. Biz Markie picked boogers like it was his job. Is this what I miss so much? Can I not truly enjoy a rap song anymore unless someone rhymes “birthdays” with “worst days”?
Hip hop the hippie to the hippie the hip hip hop, a you dont stop the rock it to the bang bang the boogie say up jumped the boogie to the rhythm of the boogie the beat, indeed.