I was watching my most recent youtube video (not. even. kidding.), and when I watched a second video (Toadies – Tyler) from the full-screen mode, it reverted to the earlier video (mine) when I un-full-screened it. Played the whole thing again. Then, I clicked on the toadies song again, and it picked up where I had left off. No, what’s strange about the story is not that I come off as a total self-loathing narcissist. How is that even possible? Dude, eyes on your groupies. Oh, that’s me? Really. Whatever. The bands and artists I love are the ones who deserve gang-busters’ quantities of their personal favorite style of ass. I just want the leftovers.
I love you so fucking much. Oh, there I go talking to my headphones again.
Hey, dude. The way people “look it up” is when you tag or title your post with relevant keywords. Or rather, this tells Google to looks it up for you, by way of “related videos.” It’s advanced math, son, but it ain’t rocket science. I sure hope that’s your drawing, and if not, tag it for the artist of that, too. That’s some fresh skullage.
Other readings from this evening:
- Got mentioned on tumblrrrr (woot!)
And un-viewed viewings:
- Viewed. Click a blank spot on the page and Hit “j” on the keyboard once to align the next picture. Repeat as necessary.
- Or, just go here: http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2011/01/ and click previous month until the cows come home. Scroll, love. Love. Love. Wow.
- Wu Tang Clan “C.R.E.A.M.”
- Toadies: I Come From the Water
- Johnny Hobo, Johnny Hobo, Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains.
- Wingnut Dishwashers Union, Pat *The* Bunny, WDU, WDU, & Pat. The. Bunny.
- Rub a dub radio on @90fm.
- http://www.myspace.com/theskuds (I could live in their practice space. Fuck, I am a groupie, aren’t I… Fuck. Oh well.
Massive bsod crackly crash. Whoa.
Fuck. Now a chrome crash. What’s going on? Say mold, sae mould.
A friend lost her job today. She worked it into a joke, so I suspect she’ll be fine. Heh. Fuck. I know she’ll be better than fine. Be better than fine, pretty lady. Like you have a choice. Heh.
My sister used to be in advertising. She couldn’t sell me. Nobody can. My family gets some sick humor in watching me writhe in public agony. They talk about me, not to me. When they talk to me, it’s to condemn me. What do you want? CDs to sell to your friends? DVDs? A book? Dad would actually recommend a book, maybe. He had me read an article in the New Yorker to introduce a concept to me. Critics suck. It was a painful read. I told him so. I am pretty sure I insulted him and his girlfriend in the course of my complaining. I do that.
I am gonna go to the library tomorrow and try to figure out how to set up an ePenny jar so I can eat, stay warm, etc.
I’m gonna sleep. I’ll catch ya tomorrows.