if i knew all the
letters, i could spell my name. (jason mraz, 0% talent)
i'm lamer than my fans give me credit for (john mayer, lamer than my
fans)
i bare my windowed self, untamed and untalented . . . (jason mraz)
don't try to tune my guitar, i'm tone deaf (evanescence, goodbye)
see, you and me have a better time when the radio is off (DuMB, the
best
of what's around)
another whole
box of
pandora's
There's something in the
way you sing that makes me feel ill, your lyrics
confuse me, you and your thesis abuse my brain . . . after an
afternoon
with you my ears bleed red (jason mraz, after an afternoon of bad
music)
Your music weighs on me as heavy as stone . . . I was just wondering
if
you'd come along to hold up my hair in the bathroom after I listen to
your
album . . . I'll do the same if the same's what you want . . . (DuMB,
the
stoner)
this morning we decided to go to the shooting range. i was trying to act like I could care less, because i didn't want my enthusiasm for firing guns to scare Frank; he kept asking why i was turning cartwheels, but i think i set his mind at ease by telling him i was so happy to see him. i'm not sure why he flinched every time i got near the guns. we loaded the guns--poor choice of words. we packed the heat--hmm. we put all the guns and ammo in some bags and placed them in the car, and we were off!
we drove out to a friend's farm in a rural area where the sound of gunshots would not arise panic. unfortunately, it was windy, throwing my aim off a bit.
we decided it might be better if we went into town to go to a gun range where my stray bullets would be less dangerous. i had a blast firing all the different guns. i really liked firing the Walther P99, it felt good and was the 2nd prettiest of all the guns, which is very important. when Frank got tired, we packed up to leave; i was really good and didn't cry, unless you count the lone glistening tear on my pwetty wittle cheek. "ta, gunrange," said i, and Frank kissed away my tear. "it’s okay t-shirt babe; i’ll let you clean the guns later." that cheered me up
here's me shootin the Walther P99:
here's my target--nothin' but black!
when we got home, I cleaned the guns. i will blog on that later. luckily they were able to sew it back on. i sorry sweetie. i guess i really could learn a thing or two from those guys over at the highroad
"i'll never let the door hit
your behind on the way out" Mayer, Your Body is a Sweat Gland
"fist to face . . . mace to eyes . . . baton to head . . . chest to ground
. . . you're under arrest punk." Mraz, After an Afternoon of Protesting
"well i've heard a thousand things come out of your face, but i stopped
listening when i needed some space" Mraz, 1000 Things Said Is 993 Too Many
"i'd rather starve than eat your mystery meat" Mayer, My Stupid Songs
"i know you're a mime mime mime, but you do it so badly it bores ofttimes"
Mayer, Your Body Has Gotten Out of Hand
"unfortunately you will diss me and i'll diss you back" Mraz, 1000 Things
Better Left Unsaid
"get me to an emergency room! baby you, you've got my only heart!" Mayer,
Open Heart Surgery
"i'm absolutely definite absolutely positive absolutely definitely
positively redundant." Mraz, Did I Fool Ya Into Buying This Blech?
"there's something in the way you laugh that makes my ears bleed" Mraz,
After an Afternoon With You My Ears Bleed
"you can be glad in the morning, i'll sneak out the back, and leave you
alone here. i'm ice cold baby." Mayer, Music Retread
"i'm sleeping to dream about your twin sister, i'm so tired of having to
live with your nagging." Mraz, Sleeping to Dream of Another
"i can't survive on the breath you are finished with--too much CO2" Mayer,
Come Back With My Scuba Gear
"i called because I just need to hear myself on the line." Mayer, Split
Pesonality Madness
a long-awaited
end
face in palm ... tear to
tear ... fingers in ears ... heart to ground ...
i am in love with myself ... (jason mraz, after an afternoon of bad
music)
there's no place to hide from our music (nickel creek, this side of
hades)
how wonderful life is while I'm asleep (elton john, your song)
you're sour as crab apples, you must not be the one. (chantal
kreviazuk,
crab apples)
Don't you remember? We built
this city . . . we built this city on rock an' roll . . .
Clowns never laughed before, beanstalks never grew. Ponies never ran
before. 'Till I met you.
All right stop collaborate and listen I'm back with my brand new
invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly Flow like a harpoon daily and
nightly
Will it ever stop yo I don't know
My lovely horse, running through the field, Where are you going, with
your
fetlocks blowing in the wind? I want to shower you with sugar lumps,
and
ride you over fences. Polish your hooves every single day, and bring
you
to the horse dentist. My lovely horse, you're a pony no more. Running
around with a man on your back, like a train in the night, like a
train in
the niiigghhtttt. . .
Get My Lovely Horse
Here
