So I spent my entire last post talking about body parts, mainly those considered unmentionables. This post however, is looking to be entirely different. Why will it be different? I have yet to discover this, but I can promise there will be a stark constrast between this post and the last. I could spend the whole time talking about something other than body parts, or I could talk about different body parts altogether, or (and this seems more likely minute by minute) I could just talk about my last post in this kind of manner. However, I feel I should do my best to create some level of original work.
Speaking of original work, ever wonder why some rappers get credit for originality or talent when they don't have either. Particularly, Puff Daddy or P. Diddy, or I like using the letter P cause I think I make me cooler. I mean really, the man's name is Sean Combs. How the hell did that become Puffy? Did he do too many drugs and he was known for his puffy eyes? Or was it the fact that he seems to love fur coats that are 20000 layers thick and 4 sizes too big? I mean, that would make me puffy, I know that for sure. And why don't non-rappers get these kind of nicknames?
The really cool nicknames have been dominated by the rappers: Jay-Z, Eminem, Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre. These are quality names. Still my favorite is DJ Jazzy Jeff. It's just fun to say, tons of fun i think. Try it out...doesn't that alliteration just roll of the tounge? Now try it in a southern accent, it comes more like Deeeeee-Jaaay Jayzey Jayff. Goes from 5 syllables to somewhere between 8 and 15. But that still brings up the question why? Is it because names like Sean Combs and Marshall Mathers just aren't "hard" enough? I would name other rappers by real name, but I don't know any, sorry.
So going back to what I was saying, a mixture of why? and why not other musicians? I can see Joshua Bell coming out to dropped lights, a fog machine, some strobe lights, dancers and a big screen flashing "J-Bell" over and over as he gets on stage. Then some beautiful woman bringing him his violin as he stands front and center. Ok, so that's not too cool. How about Diana Krall? She could go by Special K, sit behind the piano and in that hardcore kind of way, start singing the old jazz classics. Maybe I just answered my own question as to why the other artists don't have those nicknames, but it still leaves the question as to why they have such cool ones.
I really want to know if someone named Brody, Chauncey, Bret, something super-anglo, could make it as a rapper. I'm not saying they'd have to white too, just have one of those "hello, i'm the butler, (insert name here)" kind of names. And that would be great, if all butlers had to have those kind of names. I really would have to get one just for the purpose of waking up each day and saying "morning Jeeves." And it's ok, you can admit it, if you were hiring a butler, you would name him jeeves too. Did I just say name him? I meant get one named. But then again if you hired the guy, you might want one cool enough that they would let you name them, and of all names, Jeeves. That name is pretty sweet though. Maybe that'll be my rapper name.
One day, you'll see it, DJ Jeevesy Jones. I think that's what I really want to be. A rapper. Ok and going back, yeah, my name isn't Jones, but then again, it's closer to reality than Puff Daddy. Have you ever met someone named Puffy? That's what I thought. Now, how about jones? That you have. So it's feasible. And I know i'm white, and not just white, but WHITE. So this would all be in vain as the chance of people wanting to see me rap would be non-existant, even if they didn't know that I have no rapping talent. none, none at all. And I mean zero, nada, zilch, zippo. I'll stop with that now. Actually, I'll stop with everything. That'll show you!
And with that I must say I heart Jeeves, not a person, just the name. That and my balls. if you don't understand, see the previous post.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Here's Johnny!
So, It's official, I'm back. Well, maybe not consistently, but I am for now. That should be good enough for all of you, but if it isn't...Piss off!! Well, don't. Stay and read. Then you can piss off, cause by then I've already sucked you in and your mind is mine for the taking (insert evil laugh here). But seriously, I'm writing this since something dire has come to mind. It's a tragedy, and by now, most of you have heard about it I'm sure. No marathon can fix it, as often happens with natural disasters. But alas, this is not a natural disaster, but more one of my own making. What is it you ask? I shall enlighten you below.
As most of you would notice, I am in fact male. Being male, that means two things. First, I love to eat. But that is not what is on my mind. Second, and more obvious, I love boobies (to be hereafter referred to as either boobs, breasts, breastecies, or bajongajongs). Now, it came to mind that in all my posts I have talked about every subject imaginable. I have talked politics (or just simple smear campaigns), cartoons, cereal, heck you name the subject I've at least considered it. But to this time, not boobs. And this is something I want to figure out why. As I mentioned with this whole male thing, breasts are constantly on my mind. If I'm not wondering about whose I want to see, then I'm actually attempting to see someone's. I hope girls don't take this as shallow, it's just male. I like boobs, plain and simple. Even gay guys like them, you can ask 'em, they'll tell you.
They're really quite this entrancing thing to us. We're kinda like "wow, I don't have those. I wonder why not? I must know what it would be like to have my own. But that's not fun, I can just assume if I had them, I would play with them and look at them. So here goes nothing, I'll just play with and look at them and that will make me happy." Or it's some approximation of this. And going back to those names I had earlier. I'll straighten it out for any of the female population that doesn't get them. We do in fact use those names for them. Not exclusively those. But I tend to use those most often. Tits was left out for good reason. I feel a little dirty when I say the word. I mean, in public I can't exactly say "she's got nice tits." I'd get looked at funny. But if I say "how about those bajongajongs?" well, people disregard it as a foreign language.
Anyway, this all came to mind due to the travesty that I was trying to mention earlier. This being the total lack of breastecies in my life over the past, oh let's shoot with.....2 years. So this lack of boobage has seriously affected my outlook on life. I think everyday seems gloomier than the last since it's just been that much longer since the last time I got to pull a Bronsky. Ahh, bronsky, my old friend. But getting back to the point. I think they should hold a telethon for me. I don't want stripper boobs, or prostitute breasts, that's not cool. I want some wholly original, actually wanting to be there boobs. Now that would seriously make my day.
But my days seem fine. Sure each one is gloomier, etc. However, I am a generally happy person as most of you know. So in all truth, when days get gloomier, it's really just been a slow downhill trend from incredibly upbeat to rather bemused. I think all it will take is just one moment of marvelousness and i'll be back to the ray of sunshine you know me to be.
On an entirely different note, I realized some of my recent posts sucked. Well this was due to lack of inspiration. For this I blame the world for not being nearly funny enough. I mean really, did you read some of the crap I've written since I got back from Europe? It really really really sucked. On a scale of one to crapola, it was an easy -15. This was the shitty of the shitty. But I feel I'm back to Old form, rambling incessantly (did i spell that right?), feeling mighty sexy, and on top of it all, i realized that my goal in life is to actually cause a death by laughter. I hope this gets the chuckle needed to start that. One day, there will be a man found holding on to his balls, dead in a chair, in front of my blog. Why his balls? Simple, if a man feels his life or well-being may be in danger, he protects what is most precious to him. Some may say it's their family, friends, possesions, but undeniably, it's his balls. If i was gonna die, i know that all i would worry about would be my balls, maybe the penis too. Possibly want to make sure nothing goes in my ass, cause that would suck. But main concern here would have to be the genitalia. I mean we call them the family jewels, but really, I would sooner give up jewels than those puppies. Fuck there are three things in this world money can't buy, Love, my right nut and my left nut. Simple as that end of story. Let me just remind everyone that I love my balls and boobs. That was the point of this whole post. Hope you enjoyed it, I know I did. And if i'm found dead one day and I'm not clutching my balls, would someone do me a favor, find this blog and post the word "Hypocrite" on here.
Thank you, Come again!
As most of you would notice, I am in fact male. Being male, that means two things. First, I love to eat. But that is not what is on my mind. Second, and more obvious, I love boobies (to be hereafter referred to as either boobs, breasts, breastecies, or bajongajongs). Now, it came to mind that in all my posts I have talked about every subject imaginable. I have talked politics (or just simple smear campaigns), cartoons, cereal, heck you name the subject I've at least considered it. But to this time, not boobs. And this is something I want to figure out why. As I mentioned with this whole male thing, breasts are constantly on my mind. If I'm not wondering about whose I want to see, then I'm actually attempting to see someone's. I hope girls don't take this as shallow, it's just male. I like boobs, plain and simple. Even gay guys like them, you can ask 'em, they'll tell you.
They're really quite this entrancing thing to us. We're kinda like "wow, I don't have those. I wonder why not? I must know what it would be like to have my own. But that's not fun, I can just assume if I had them, I would play with them and look at them. So here goes nothing, I'll just play with and look at them and that will make me happy." Or it's some approximation of this. And going back to those names I had earlier. I'll straighten it out for any of the female population that doesn't get them. We do in fact use those names for them. Not exclusively those. But I tend to use those most often. Tits was left out for good reason. I feel a little dirty when I say the word. I mean, in public I can't exactly say "she's got nice tits." I'd get looked at funny. But if I say "how about those bajongajongs?" well, people disregard it as a foreign language.
Anyway, this all came to mind due to the travesty that I was trying to mention earlier. This being the total lack of breastecies in my life over the past, oh let's shoot with.....2 years. So this lack of boobage has seriously affected my outlook on life. I think everyday seems gloomier than the last since it's just been that much longer since the last time I got to pull a Bronsky. Ahh, bronsky, my old friend. But getting back to the point. I think they should hold a telethon for me. I don't want stripper boobs, or prostitute breasts, that's not cool. I want some wholly original, actually wanting to be there boobs. Now that would seriously make my day.
But my days seem fine. Sure each one is gloomier, etc. However, I am a generally happy person as most of you know. So in all truth, when days get gloomier, it's really just been a slow downhill trend from incredibly upbeat to rather bemused. I think all it will take is just one moment of marvelousness and i'll be back to the ray of sunshine you know me to be.
On an entirely different note, I realized some of my recent posts sucked. Well this was due to lack of inspiration. For this I blame the world for not being nearly funny enough. I mean really, did you read some of the crap I've written since I got back from Europe? It really really really sucked. On a scale of one to crapola, it was an easy -15. This was the shitty of the shitty. But I feel I'm back to Old form, rambling incessantly (did i spell that right?), feeling mighty sexy, and on top of it all, i realized that my goal in life is to actually cause a death by laughter. I hope this gets the chuckle needed to start that. One day, there will be a man found holding on to his balls, dead in a chair, in front of my blog. Why his balls? Simple, if a man feels his life or well-being may be in danger, he protects what is most precious to him. Some may say it's their family, friends, possesions, but undeniably, it's his balls. If i was gonna die, i know that all i would worry about would be my balls, maybe the penis too. Possibly want to make sure nothing goes in my ass, cause that would suck. But main concern here would have to be the genitalia. I mean we call them the family jewels, but really, I would sooner give up jewels than those puppies. Fuck there are three things in this world money can't buy, Love, my right nut and my left nut. Simple as that end of story. Let me just remind everyone that I love my balls and boobs. That was the point of this whole post. Hope you enjoyed it, I know I did. And if i'm found dead one day and I'm not clutching my balls, would someone do me a favor, find this blog and post the word "Hypocrite" on here.
Thank you, Come again!
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