I'm pretty psyched for the Twins season to start. Hopefully that will break me out my current, unexplained Fred Funk I'm in. Maybe it has to do with the ghetto children running around the parking lot screaming witty little bon mots like, "Don't call mae Lizzie anymo'. Only mae friend call mae Liz." Or my personal fave, "Dat's right, I called yo a D-I-C-Khead." Not to mention the fucks revving the engines on their Silverados and Grand Prixs at 12:30AM. Oh, and they don't lock our apartment doors. I hate Fridley.
Joss Stone is on Craig Ferguson right now. All I can think of is, "God, what a fine ass prostitute." Just kidding. I don't care who fucks who, as long as the final product is listenable. Shit, Bob Dylan could have blown everyone in Cafe Wha? and as long as "Blonde On Blonde" was the gangsta shit, who gives a fuck?
The reason I'm watching Mr. Fergie is that Robin Williams is on Conan. I would rather take it in the pooper from the "Rabid Wolverine" Chris Benoit than ever watch that ADD attention deprived Leprechaun ever again. Ah-lalalalalala, Uh-whoowhoowhoo. And that's the gist of his sthick.
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