Not a bad idea, changing the next next weekend to “oxt weekend”.
You going somewhere this weekend? Or was it oxt weekend?
I’m working next weekend. And oxt weekend. I swear, I’m going to burn this whole place down some day.
How about oxt weekend? How about oxt weekend? You say that every week! Just admit you’d rather play WoW than go out with me. Admit it. Admit it!
And my social scene takes the examples down with them. Regardless, this is a nifty neologism that I can get behind.
Somebody went and created a chart describing how connected you are to when you signed up for Twitter. I joined Twitter waaaaay back in early 2007, so I guess I’m more awesome than everybody else. Click the image to actually read the thing.
Proof positive that I’m a futurist. Or, at least, an innovator. Well, I’m something, the Internet told me so!
I’m being completely serious about this.
After watching this video, is there anything left to see?
Seriously, it’ll stop the way you think about everything.
Whilst working, early this morning, a local radio station played in the background. Normally a good mix of happy songs, there were some terrible, terrible songs in the rotation for this morning. Stupid, sappy, late–70s love songs. It was horrifying, and it didn’t enhance my effort at all.
As I ate lunch, yet another radio station played in the background. The first song that came on was John Denver’s ‘Thank God I’m a Country Boy,’ so I figured things were not going to get any better. I was wrong.
After I got my burger, I heard the characteristic open sounds of one of the greatest songs in the history of mankind: Shaft!
Yes, I love that song…maybe a little too much. But if loving Shaft is wrong, I don’t want to be right! Or live in the 21st century, for that matter.
Then some hippies (I swear, none of them older than 21, none of them wasting more than $5 on shaving gear in their lives) walked in. After the group sat down, the waitress asked them what they wanted to drink, left, and returned, she asked them if they “knew what they wanted?”
“…besides a haircut?” I added.
Then I spent the next three minutes trying to act like I was trying to get something out of my beard as to cover up my hysterical non–laughing.
Hippies? Shaft? The 70s?
It was funny to me, anyways.
Is there anything worse than when two of the things you remember from childhood colliding in one sad, sorry YouTube video?
No there isn’t.
I blame YouTube. And George Lucas. And MC Hammer.
It’s a lot more fun than it sounds, actually.
__ .-----..-----.| |_ | _ || -__|| _| |___ ||_____||____| |_____| __ | |--..--.--..-----..-----. | || | || _ || -__| |__|__||___ || __||_____| |_____||__| __ __ __ .--.--..---.-.| | | | | | || _ | |_| | | |___ ||___._| |__|__| |_____|
Tremendous waste of time found here.
I’m not really sure if I want to party hard, but it sure beats doing something productive with my free time.
I may or may not post anything ever again here.
This is why I don’t like Red Bull.
This, and Red Bull is yucky.
Click through to see it…
This would mark the first (and only) time I ever watched this video. Ground–breaking at the time, it was still an A-ha song. Oh, the hair of my youth…