Hooked on classics.....like Xanadu

Okay, I'm no Olivia Newton-John. But I found my mom's Hooked on Classics CD and laughed out loud for a minute. Imagine the classics on a synthesizer pumping full of adrenaline and maxed out on psychotropics. This is what I'm dealing with. As a child, I was dead convinced that this was the music that the Special Olympics used to inspire runners. Well, here are my special dance Olympics, Xanadu-style.

Sorry for the Quasi Moto Hunchback dancing moves ~ I'm no Napoleon Dynamite.

Stress = Funny Strange

Stress does funny things to me when I am stressed out. I have really bizarre dreams and my body does amazingly cruel things to me. You don't want to know. I don't want to know.


Anyway. I had a dream last night that an ASPCA volunteer called and b*tched me out because I didn't have dog toys in my front yard and that I should walk Ellie to work to get her some exercise. I hung up the phone on her in the dream and I woke up really angry. Ellie has tons of toys and love. She does need more exercise though, but not walking all the way to Davenport. Now I feel like a bad mommie. Look at that cutie pie all dressed up in green corduroy jacket. puppy : )

I also had a dream that Paris Hilton was setting me up by placing her fancy solid gold pen in my coat pocket and telling police that I stole it from her because I told her that she should go to college and finish because she is a f*cking Hilton and acting like a dumb b*tch.

So on that strange note, I leave you wish this little nugget that represents what I feel inside.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmWK6xHjByE

Robin Hood, the Real Story, the Rhythm and the Rhyme

I spy, with my little eye, Sheriff Kanye running off with Taylor Swift's VMA Moonman with Vanilla Ice trying to bust a cap in his ass. Then I spy Obama in the Sherwood Hood with his wife Maid Michelle and his trusty pal Skippy Biden righting the wrongs of our financial past (shame shame PJ and W.) without missing a beat by sharing with the media that Kanye West is in fact, a "jackass." Meanwhile, we remember The Notorious B.I.G. and his mentorship of Diddy and Mase (the Ecclesiastic Bombastic) who, through their Bad Boy ways, have saved the day via the rhythm and the rhyme. And Miley is there too, just because, she always there, constantly, all the time.


Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play this song for me......please click on the sidebar YouTube for Ice Ice Baby (blue with words) for the full experience.

Yo Robin Hood, let's kick it

Tax this, baby
Tax this, baby

All right halt, congregate, and listen
Hood is back from the Sherwood convention
Marion grabs a hold of him tightly
She keeps it fresh by both mourn’ and nightly
Will she ever stop, yo, Hood don't know
John’s stealin’ some tax so he be rich fo sho
To the extreme, Prince steal like a vandal
Light up the woods, Marion wax him wit a handle
Drink, find Nottingham and go boom
Robin busted heads to get to Marion, zoom
Drunkly, Kanye’s plays a dope in lieu of a melody
If you ain’t pay taxes, Prince lay you down with a felony
Love it or leave it, you better be pay
Lucky for ya’ll Hood hits bull's eye cause he don't play
If there was a problem, yo Hood will solve it
Check out this mix as the Ecclesiastic Bombastic revolves it


Drink this, baby
Drink this, baby

Now that the Hood be jumpin’
With the woods tricked out and the ale is pumpin'
Quick to get drunk, ain’t no point in fakin’
Tuck’s spinnin’ them beats, don’t be forsakin’
Throwing back, to get drunk and nimble
Tuck go crazy when he see holy symbol
And a hi-hat, with a Bishop mojo
Marion’s bouncin’, no Hood, time to go solo
Rollin' in her horse and bug
With her hair done up so that it don’t show
Taylor was waiting, wishing MTV were on standby
Did Kanye stop, no, must have been high
She kept on chillin' till he stopped
She busted a tear and headed to Miley Cyrus’ block
V-M-A’s dead
Yo, so she continued to “Oh, wait, hey, Nottingham Avenue!”
Taylor was hot and downed some Bellini’s
Beyonce even said Kanye’s a meanie
Jealous, cause’ all he does is whine
Diddy shook his head, said Bad Boy ain’t mine
Reading, Bush was out on the mall
Cheney’s a chump acting ill; he’s out, no more Inauguration Balls
Tambourine man, rang out like a bell
Mase came back to the biz so that he could sell
Falling, on the market real fast
Jumped in my carriage, horse had some gas
Rickshaw to rickshaw, the dirt road was packed
I'm trying to get away for my afternoon snack
Sheriff on the scene you know what I mean
He passed me up, confronted all the ale fiends
If there was a problem, yo Hood will solve it
Check out this mix as the Ecclesiastic Bombastic revolves it

Smoke this, baby
Smoke this, baby

Take heed, 'cause BIG’s a lyrical poet
Nottingham on the scene just in case you didn't know it
The town that created all the bass sound
Archers shoot and spear holes in the ground
'Cause Diddy’s white parties are a hell of a thrill
Feasible feasts, Thanksgiving, a vision and feel
Plotted and formed
Bad Boy, a hell of a concept
We make it hype and you want to get wit this
Mase wear himself a fade, slice like a ninja
Cut like a razor blade so fast other Friars say damn
If my rhyme was an ale, I'd sell it by the pint
Keep my composure, cutting Guantanamo loose
Magnetized by the Maid, while I drink pimp juice
If there was a problem, yo Hood will solve it
Check out this mix as the Ecclesiastic Bombastic revolves it


Tax this, baby –vanilla-
Tax this, baby (oh-oh) –chocolate-
Drink this, baby –hazelnut-
Drink this, baby vanilla ice
Yo Hood, let's get out of here
Word to your Motha’
Drink this, baby too cold
Drink this, baby too cold too cold (x2)
Drink this, baby

Crank Dis

I have cracked the code ladies and gents. This is why America's youth has gone retarded. Luckily there is a silver lining coming straight to you via my favorite little haunt called the Bier Stube. This is the place where magical dreams can come true on any open-mic-night with two white boys, some beer, a video camera, and some Spike Jonze-like inspirations, thus creating such a gem. Enjoy.

Soulja Boy Off In This Hoe Watch Me Crank It Watch Me Roll Watch Me Crank Dat Soulja Boy Then Super Man Dat Hoe Now Watch Me Yuuuuuaaaaaa! (Crank Dat Soulja Boy)

Birthday Weekend Extravaganza with Guest Blogger Dirty Blonde

Hello kids. Sorry about the delay. Been sick and recovering from last weeks events down in the Paign. So I did it. I desecrated my body as Vern would say, no longer allowed to be buried in an Orthodox Jewish cemetery, and got myself some ink.

feed the birds toppins a bag

Moving on. So I got the ink by myself for about a half hour until Dirty Blonde and C to the OC showed up to mock me and chat with the owner/artists who must have been having Vaudeville day at the shop because they were all wearing vests, suspenders, and they gelled their mustaches just right for my visit. Hmmm.


So we venture back to E and Papa Joe's and prepare (via adult beverages) for the night's outing. Everyone is talks and smiles and I am happy to be away on a vacay on this day....oh wait, is that cake? It is f*cking cold outside, which means that we inevitably decide to sit outside as it is the only place available at the Brewery where of course they still aren't brewing any beer. Thanks Blind Pig. More like Thirsty Beaver. Whatever.




Insert guest blog: Thanks to Dirty Blonde, here is a vignette of what went down:


"Games you played when you went to slumber parties: Truth or Dare, I never have I ever…, etc.




For J’s birthday, the weather was a titty bit nipply. I think I could have cut glass with mine and it took me two days to defrost from that night. When I get cold, I get sleepy. To keep the evening fun and exciting, we decided to resort back to the slumber party games. What makes it more fun doing it at a bar is there are more people around to get involved in the dares and/or increase the embarrassment. We decided to play Truth or Dare first with a clause that you can’t pick Truth. Ted had to drop “trou” meaning he had to drop his pants to his ankles, in freezing cold weather mind you. I had to give some married guy a violet and say a poem the married guy released the flower like I handed him a dirty Kleenex, so funny. I also had to pull a Joey Tribiani “Hey, how you doin’?” Followed by the stupidest pick up line in the world, “What’s your sign?” Of course, the first guy I approached took all the fun out of this one. I got out the “Hey, how you doin’?” He replied, you could tell this guy has barely ever spoken to a girl before, for a second, I thought he might pee his pants. Then I asked him, “What’s your sign?” He turns to his two friends, other guys mind you, and asked them what his sign was. WTF? After about two- to five-minutes, we figure out he’s an Aries. Way too much work for a Dare! Shot time!!! Apparently, I scared the guys off, I wasn’t even inside the door to go get shots when they took off in the other directions. They had to go get reinforcements. So funny."






Here are some snapshots of J hugging strangers via the DARE.

The next day was nicely punctuated by brunch at Silvercreek, where a group of friends realized that you can in fact, eat your weight in delightful, gourmet brunch fare. So E, Papa Joe, C to the OC, Mr. Orange County, Dirty Blonde, Ted, Jilly Bean and I join together before I hit the road. And to the mimosas....here's one for the road.